


First to go

by NessL



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate ending to the battle of the bells, Bittersweet Ending, Daenerys stops listening to her advisors, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fulfiled Prophecy, and it's bloody time, set in season 8 ep 5, with a true sweet part
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2020-03-01 11:26:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18799414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NessL/pseuds/NessL
Summary: "Did you never find it strange, Lord Varys, how well informed my enemies always seem to be?" Daenerys asked. "Since I have come to Westeros, I have suffered losses upon losses while my enemies always knew where to find my armies."An AU set in s08 ep5 in which Daenerys stops listening to her advisors and begins to follow Olenna's advice.However, letting a grieving girl with an unstable mind plays with a weapon of mass destruction might not be the brightest idea ever, particularly not when the city she wants to attack is full of wildfire, a courtesy of her late father.Or get a glimpse of how season 8 could have ended if the show writers had actually used their brains.





	1. Loose end

Varys hurried through the last corridor before entering the throne room. Despite his hurry, he noted immediately that he was the last to arrive. The hall was full as all the Northern lords who had come South with Daenerys were already in attendance. Their eyes followed his footsteps as he came bowing before the queen. 

Jon Snow was standing on her right side while Grey Worm was on her left, enhancing the current disfavor of the Hand of the Queen. Tyrion was placed behind them and was thus hardly visible. Daenerys herself was sitting on the throne carved in the dragonglass, dressed in a pure white gown with silvery dragons embroidered on her long sleeves. Even though she was not wearing a crown, an aura of power and control exuded from her as she was impassively contemplating him. _As beautiful as she is dangerous_ , Varys thought.

"You called me for an urgent matter, My Queen and I came as soon as I could," the Spider said slightly out of breath. "How may I be of service?"

He felt uncomfortable at the thought he had been the last to be informed of this meeting. As Master of Whispers, he should have been told before anyone else. The only explication that none of his little birds had been able to warn him in advance was that the queen herself must have ordered the meeting unexpectedly. 

Varys glanced around him. None of the faces present gave him any indication as to why they had been thus summoned. He would have bet that they didn’t know either. _Too impulsive, too unpredictable_ , Varys added in his mind.

"I have been thinking about something for quite some time," the queen then said. "I’ve tried to find a satisfactory answer to my problem, but so far to no avail, so I would like to know your thoughts on the matter."

"Certainly, You Grace. What is it that bothers you?" Varys inquired, wondering what could possibly be important enough to be discussed in front of all this assembly and not have been done sooner.

"Did you never find it strange, Lord Varys, how well informed my enemies always seem to be?" Daenerys asked him. "Since I have come to Westeros, I have suffered losses upon losses while my enemies always knew where to find my armies."

The room grew silent. All the lords shifted their attention from the queen to Varys and then back. With this line of questioning, she had managed to attract everyone's interest.

"It is true that our enemies have been able to guess some of our moves with troubling accuracy," the Spider began. "It is my belief that this must be bad luck, Your Grace. Our enemies may have been so successful in their guesses because your Hand happened to be the brother of the commander of the Lannister's armies. Who knows if Ser Jaime did not foresee some of our plans because he is familiar with Lord Tyrion’s mind and logic?" he said, throwing a brief glance in the dwarf's direction. Tyrion glowered at him in response behind Jon Snow's back.

"So you would blame our troubles on bad luck and bold guesses?" the queen asked evenly. "Had this happened only once, I might have agreed with you," she continued. "But for it to happen each and every time I made a move? Too many of my plans have been spoiled for it to be caused only by misfortune, Lord Varys. As Master of Whispers, isn't it your duty to have a better explanation than this?"

Following this statement, the silence seemed to stretch. Varys looked a little bit paler. 

"Unfortunately, I do not think I have a better explication, Your Grace. I truly believe Ser Jaime's knowledge of his brother to be the most likely explanation." 

The Spider seemed to waver as if he was unsure of himself. "Unless you want to consider another possibility", he added at last with feigned reluctance. "One that I do not believe to be very likely, which is why I did not mention it before but it might explain our misfortune."

"And what would that be, Lord Varys? I find myself quite intrigued by this new possibility you have just evoked." Daenerys said.

"My Queen, this other possibility... You must understand it is only a hypothesis, of course. It would also come to the choice you made when you appointed Tyrion Lannister as your Hand. Our losses might be explained by his reluctance to fight what is left of his family at the best of his abilities."

Varys made another brief pause before continuing once he was certain he had everyone's attention. "After all, trying to kill your own siblings must not be so easy to do... " Varys learned a long time ago that the best lies must always have a bit of truth in them.

Daenerys did not look satisfied with his answer though. _Not pliable enough_ , Varys concluded.

"Now, would you really put the blame on my own Hand? My enemies act as if they know what my plans are and where to find my armies. This can’t be explained by a lack of commitment, Lord Varys. This is _treason_. I have suspected it for quite some time now and the last attack confirmed it. Someone has been betraying me and selling all my secrets to Cersei Lannister." 

The tension in the room grew. One could heard whispers from the assembly following this statement; Varys tried to shut them out to force his mind to focus. 

"I have yet to find someone in our rank with a suspicious behavior that would explain a treason of such an importance, My Queen. My latest reports confirmed that our men and allies are quite loyal to your cause. We all want Cersei Lannister gone and you are our best hope to achieve this, but I can make further inquiries about potential suspects if it can ease your... "

"That won’t be necessary" the queen interrupted him curtly. "You will be pleased to know that I have already found the culprit. As I grew wary of treason and you did not seem capable to put an end to it, I took some measures myself. I recently ordered all ravens leaving Dragonstone for Kings Landing to be shot down and their messages brought to me." 

Daenerys produced a yellowish piece of paper and showed it to Varys' nose. "You certainly recognize your own handwriting, Lord Varys? Do I also need to remind you of the contents of this message?"

Varys could feel a cold sweat forming on his brow.

Daenerys turned toward Jon Snow as if about to ask for his support before she continued. "This raven was destined to our enemies, My Lords, written by Varys' own treacherous hand. It says to expect us in three days at sunrise. Following this, it gives a short description of our battle plan."

At the queen's words, loud exclamations erupted from the assembly. All remaining color left Varys' face. For a man usually so stoic, he could no longer conceal the slight tremor in his hands even as they were half-hidden in the ample sleeves of his clothes. 

"Treason!" someone bellowed behind him.

"My Queen..." Varys began but the queen silenced him with a curt motion of her hand before nodding in Grey Worm's direction.

The Unsullied stepped forward.

"Take this traitor to a cell and interrogate him" she told her commander. "Make sure he talks. I want to know the extent of his betrayal, what else he divulged to our enemies, what he knows about our foes. This might help us in the upcoming fight." Then, she turned toward Varys to give him the coldest look she could summon. "And after that, Lord Varys, I shall keep my promise to you. "

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at writing a story, so please be kind in your comments. 
> 
> This chapter has been betaed by Camille. A huge thank to her!
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter: the attack of the bells, but in a credible way. Hopefully you'll find it more fulfilling than the last and terrible episode of the show.


	2. Your worst enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have a good plan to take Kings Landing with a minimum of casualties, or so they think.
> 
> An alternate ending to the battle of the bells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you a lot for your kind comments regarding the first chapter.  
> I hope you will enjoy this one as well.

The night they chose for the attack was dark and cloudless, the moon not yet visible. It should not rise for many more hours and if luck was on their side, the city would have fallen by then. 

The darkness would be as much an advantage as a disadvantage during the battle. On the one hand, it would conceal Drogon and protect him from the deadly bolts of the scorpions and the sleeping city would be taken by surprise. On the other hand, fighting in the dark would be much more difficult for those who were on the ground.

From above, Kings Landing looked peaceful. Most of the capital was hidden in the obscurity though some parts stood out like the rampart, which was easy to discern as it was encircling the gargantuan city in a ring of fire. Daenerys gazed at the sight below from Drogon’s back to commit the different areas to memory. Before long, she found herself drawn by the sight of the Red Keep, standing tall and proud on Aegon Hill, a brazier at one of its highest points tearing the sky in two. Through their bond, she could feel the dragon’s restlessness matching hers.

_Soon, my love, very soon._

The city was quiet; it was a good omen. Daenerys would have to thanks Varys for his last contribution to her conquest before executing him. Cersei must have assumed the assault would take place in three days time at sunrise as was stated in the raven written by Varys she had received. She had no reason to believe the attack would instead happen this very night under the cover of darkness.

When the queen believed that enough time had passed – for time is difficult to judge when mounted on the back of a dragon – she lead Drogon toward the Gate of the Gods. After so long, so much efforts and so much losses, the very thing she had coveted for years was within grasp. As well as revenge.

Drogon dove suddenly, falling through the sky the way a bird of prey would. The icy wind whipped at Daenerys' face and she gripped the dragon’s scales tighter, not seeing well where they were going although the darkness did not seem to bother the dragon. Soon the Gate of the Gods appeared in front of them like a beacon in the dark. They soared toward their target at full speed as if they intended to crash into the massive gate. At the last moment, Drogon expanded his wings to slow their flight, opened his mouth and breathed the most powerful blast of fire he could conjure. The whole gate was blown away under the force of the impact, leaving a gaping wound in the fortification. Daenerys did not linger to admire her work; she brought Drogon back into the sky at once, high and safe from harm. By the time the guards on duty understood what had just happened, they were long gone.

_I won't let any harm come to you too. I have already paid the highest price._

Drogon let out a powerful roar in response. 

The bells of the Red Keep began to toll, soon followed by the others bells of Kings Landing. We’re under attack, attack, attack the bells were all ringing. The sleeping city would wake up to find itself under fire, yet by the time any efficient defense could take place it would be too late. The Dragon Queen could picture her Dothrakis on their way to the Red Keep, galloping in the deserted and dimly lit streets. 

Driven by her success, she turned Drogon toward the Red Keep to destroy the main gate of the fortress in the same way. Neither the gate nor the garrison posted around offered them any resistance, not that she had expected any. 

She had done her part of the work. The path was clear for the troops on the ground. It was as much a success as they had predicted it would be and she had tipped the scale in their favor. Daenerys could turn Drogon around and wait for the Red Keep to surrender once her armies would reach it. 

Or she could stay and get her revenge now. Make _her_ pay. Make her burn. Make her feel some of the pain she had caused. 

For a short while, the queen was no longer in the air but back in front of Kings Landing the day she had tried to negotiate with the Lannister woman. All that Daenerys could remember of this day was her absolute helplessness and the pure, terrible rage that had consumed her at the sight of Missandei’s broken body.

Cersei had been standing on the rampart above her, in a dominant position. Daenerys had been too far away to catch the woman’s expression, but the Dragon Queen would have bet Cersei was smiling as she had looked down at her and the human lump on the ground that had been Daenerys’ closest confident. Her sweet Missandei had been very dear to her and the damned woman knew it. 

How she had wished she could call for Drogon right then and there to burn them all in her anger, that woman, the guards and the whole city with them to make them feel the extent of her wrath. It would have been utter madness at that time though. There were many archers on the wall ready to rain down fire on them, two ballistae aimed their way; they would have died before they could reach Cersei. Even though she had a dragon – the only living dragon left in the world and the greatest weapon one could imagine – Daenerys had been unable to stop the woman.

No scorpion would touch her tonight though. In the dark sky, no one could see her mounted on her great black son.

Daenerys lowered her gaze. The Red Keep was just below. At this late hour, Cersei must be resting inside the royal chamber, just within reach. Despite the many crimes she had committed, the woman was still enjoying a position she did not deserve in a castle that was not hers but Daenerys'. The thought was so maddening that the Dragon Queen felt her long repressed anger coming back to life, thirsty for more fire and blood. 

She had locked away in a part of her mind all the terrible things she had to endure in her short life; her fleeing childhood, always looking over her shoulder for assassins, her brother’s abuse, her husband’s and her son’s deaths, the loss of Viserion and Rhaegal, Jorah, Missandei... She had locked away her grief to forget it, because she would never have been able to go on otherwise. She never acknowledged what she had to go through, but the darkness was still there. It had grown like an untreated wound, festering upon years and years of pain, misery and frustration. For once, all these feelings wanted out and she just had the right target to unleash them.

So instead of turning back to wait for the outcome as was part of the plan, Daenerys urged Drogon back toward the castle. 

“Dracarys!” she screamed at the top of her lungs as soon as the Red Keep was within reach.

The area including the royal chambers took fire at once. Drogon’s breath was so hot it nearly melted the stones, sending a huge amount of burning debris to the ground in their wake. The dragon circled round the castle before coming back to attack it, again and again. Under his relentless assaults, many portions of the keep were soon burning brightly in the night. 

Daenerys could feel her heart beat wildly and the adrenaline rush through her veins, making her feel alive as she had never felt before. She could imagine Cersei screaming, her sneering face twisted in agony as she was slowly roasted alive and it felt so good. Any common sense was lost to the wind with such feelings; revenge was not just satisfying, it felt glorious. 

As they were flying low over the courtyard, the queen saw many human shapes illuminated by the fires. It looked like the courtyard was brimming with people running toward the destroyed gate in an attempt to escape the carnage. Daenerys did not pay them any attention, she had a better target in mind than a crowd of refugies.

At this moment, a huge arrow whizzed past Drogon. In the semi-darkness, it missed him by a few inches, but they may not be so lucky next time. As Daenerys could not see where the bolt had been shot from, she let Drogon take the lead to hunt down those responsible.

Drogon renewed his attacks with an increased fury, destroying anything that could hide one of those deadly weapons. The bell tower was the first to fall, toppling to the ground with a hiss under the dragon’s onslaught. It crashed into the courtyard and shattered in a thousand pieces. Daenerys did not even find the will to care for the crowd below so intent she was on destroying her worst enemy. 

Before long the Red Keep looked more like a pile of fiery rubble than an actual fortress. The proud castle was either engulfed in the flames or falling to the ground. The dragon would have gone on like this until it was entirely razed had nothing stopped him. 

Without warning, Drogon let out an a horrible screech of agony; a massive arrow had hit him. A chorus of cheers erupted from below as the dragon faltered in the air. For a terrifying moment, Daenerys thought they would fall to their death like Viserion and Rhaegal before them, but her son managed to right himself before hitting the ground. 

A terrible resentment took hold of the queen's heart. The people of Kings Landing, _her_ people, were happy to see her and her dragon fall to their deaths instead of rebelling against Cersei’s illegitimate rule. Could they not see that she was doing this for them? To free them from a tyrant who cared nothing for them? 

However while Daenerys was distracted by these bitter thoughts, Drogon decided to act on his own. The dragon, even if he allowed a human to ride him, was not truly tamed. At heart, he was still a wild animal, one that made no difference between foes or allies, soldiers or smallfolk. 

Despite his injury, the dragon dove toward the people below and began to set them aflame, turning their cries of joy to screams of panic. Daenerys tried to deter him but to no avail.

_Come my sweet, we must go away. I can remove the bolt. Let me help you._

Right now, the last thing Drogon wanted was to listen to reason. The rush of the attack combined with the pain he was in had made his blood boil. There were still some ants left running below. _Preys_ , his mind whispered in Daenerys’ through their bond, _the same kind that hurt us_. The black beast opened his large mouth; several long jets of fire erupted from it to engulf the last souls that were unfortunate to remain in the courtyard. Their burned husks fell silently on the cobblestones like they were made of sand.

Only then and with great efforts did Daenerys manage to convince him to turn around and leave. Drogon beat his wings and soon they were once more high in the air, safe from the ballistae scattered across the capital. 

She urged Drogon East toward a promontory just outside of the city wall. They flew past the fortification and landed on a clearing not far from its highest point. The arrival turned out to be rougher than expected as one of Drogon’s legs gave away under his weight. He whined in pain. 

Daenerys could still see the Red Keep from there – or rather what was left of it – burning bright in the night. In contrast, this place was pitch black and utterly quiet, save for the dragon’s panting. 

Daenerys struggled to descend from her mount as her eyes were not yet accustomed to such darkness. The soil felt damp and soft under her feet once she jumped from Drogon's back. Tentatively, she search for her son’s wound in the dark by caressing his side softly; a rasp escaped the dragon's mouth as her fingers found an arrow embedded between his scales. Though painful, the injury did not seem to be lethal.

Hot blood oozed from the wound and fell on her hands while she was laboring to remove the bolt. The thing was struck between two scales and would not come out. She used her last remaining forces to make it budge, her two feet on the dragon and her body as taut as a bow. Drogon hissed in pain as the bolt came loose at last. She threw the arrow onto the ground.

“Yes!” she screamed in victory to no one in particular. “Finally!”

She petted Drogon’s nose.

“We won! The Lannister bitch’s dead! You did well, my love.”

The queen began to laugh out loud, savoring her final triumph. She could still feel the glorious euphoria she had experienced during the attack, the rush of adrenaline in her veins, the incredible feeling of power. 

At this precise instant, an extraordinary phenomenon occurred. The soil began to tremble under her feet while at the same time the clearing became nearly as bright as it would be during daytime. Now, Daenerys could see the dark greenish blood staining her hands, though the blood of the dragon was not the only thing that had a unusual hue. The sky was also filled with green-yellow lights, which seemed to come from the West, where Kings Landing stood. 

She moved away from her son to gaze at the city. Where the ruins of Red Keep should be standing, an enormous ball of green fire was slowly rising in the sky, illuminating the entire city. So bright was its intensity that it look like another sun had risen. 

It was as beautiful a sight as it was terrifying. Up to a quarter of the city was wrapped in this incandescent haze and all of Aegon High Hill had been blown away. The ashes in the air were all that was left of the Red Keep and of the entire hill. The wind was twisting the dust, creating greenish patterns that were blowing like leaves in the sky. 

Meanwhile, the ocean nearby also grew agitated, the sea retreating very far away to leave the bay dry for a short while. Soon, a huge wave came back, crashing and engulfing in its wake all the ships that had been anchored near the harbor.

Then, the deafening sound of the blast came to the queen's ears, along with a strong wind carrying a heavy smell of burned meat. The stench turned Daenerys’ stomach. She leant on Drogon for support and retched even though she had nothing left but her body fluids to expel. Any sense of elation she had been experiencing before evaporated as quickly as a summer snow. In its place, dread settled in her stomach, soon followed by horror as another realization hit her. 

In her hurry to leave Kings Landing, she had completely forgotten to check on her armies. She had no way of knowing where they were when the Red Keep was blown up. For all she knew, they had already reached the fortress by that time.

And Jon was leading them.

_Oh, gods, she thought weakly,  
what I have done?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Aerys and D&D for their contribution to this chapter! Without their bright ideas, this story could never have existed…
> 
> On a more serious note, I hope your don’t hate me too much for killing maybe more people in this battle than in the show.
> 
> Damn, I was supposed to write a fix-it of sort. I supposed a get a little bit carried away. But I wasn’t really lying: they actually had a great plan to avoid casualties. To bad the queen herself did not stick to it.
> 
>    
> There's something else hidden in this chapter. It's related to a prophecy. Did you find it? I don't know if I'm being too obvious or to cryptic.
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter: the queen gets a very unpleasant surprise while Varys gets himself a friend.


	3. A hollow crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to those who left comments or kudos on this work!

Daenerys' first instinct was to return to Kings Landing to see what was happening in the city. However, returning to the capital now would mean death for both her and her dragon as the city was still brightly illuminated by the green fire. One deadly hit to Drogon and all would be over.

It had been her mistake earlier; she had rain down fire on the Red Keep for too long. Drogon’s shadow must have become more and more easy to discern the more fire they created. She should not have let her anger get the better of her and make her take such unnecessary risks. Now, no matter her feelings, she couldn't be reckless again. 

So despite her wish to see if Jon was alive and well and to check on her armies, she went back to the military encampment that had been hastily erected on the western side of the capital, not far from it. Even here everything was still bathed by this unnatural green light, from the soft snow falling from the sky to the frozen ground.

At her arrival, she found the place almost deserted as all those who were fit enough had been sent to fight. There was no maester nor councilor here to answer the queen's interrogations, only a handful of guards. Daenerys decided at once to sent a messenger with a heavy escort inside the city to have a update on the situation.

Once this was done, it would have been wiser to rest to save her strength while she was awaiting news from the battle. Yet, despite her exhaustion, she was too full of simmering energy and worries to lie down. After a while, a servant came to bring her some food and mulled wine to keep her warm, but she refused both to resume her anxious pacing in the commending tent. Her unsettled stomach was still disgusted by the idea of ingesting anything.

Even in death the Lannister woman was still a nuisance. After everything Cersei had done when alive, she was now robbing Daenerys of her victory. Even when her armies would beat Cersei's remaining forces – and the queen was bound to succeed for who would want to fight for a dead woman's cause? – the ancestral seat of the Targaryen was forever lost, melted and buried under thousand tons of stones in the explosion that destroyed a big part of the capital as well. It promised to be a bitter victory. 

At first, Daenerys had believed that this disaster was a consequence of her attack with Drogon. However, after some deep thinking, her sentiments began to change. A new certainty slowly emerged in her mind. She was now convinced this catastrophe was Cersei’s own doing. What was happening was too similar to what had befallen the Great Sept of Baelor to be a mere coincidence. Only in this case, it was happening on a scale ten time more devastating. 

This would be Cersei's legacy to the Seven Kingdoms. She would rather leave behind her a destroyed capital than acknowledge her defeat. After this tragedy, Daenerys' rule would be forever tarnished. 

_Wildfire_ , Tyrion had called the substance that had caused the Great Sept to blow off. A magical fire meant to replace dragon's fire, a fire that burn so hot it melt Valyrian steel and could burn even surrounded by water. It would consume everything it touched as the only way to stop it was to smother it under many tons of sand in its early stage. In the present case, it was too late. Nothing could be done to stop it except to wait for it to die down once it had exhausted itself, be it in one hour, in one day or in one week. 

As she was pondering what she knew of wildfire and how Cersei could have put her hands on so much of the substance, Daenerys remembered that there was actually someone here that may answer her questions. 

As she left the safety of her tent, the four Unsullied that were guarding it fell into steps behind her. Two more Dothrakis joined them to increase the queen's protection during the dragon's rest.

She walked at a brisk pace among the encampment despite the snow that was now covering the entire camp like in a greenish blanket. The queen reached quickly the tent she was seeking, the one where Jaime Lannister was kept, only to learn that he was gone.

“The Lord Hand has ordered his release in your name, My Queen,” the guard dutifully answered when questioned.

 

❈

 

When the men came back from the city, their faces were not the faces of victorious soldiers. All wore tired expressions and their worn out postures were speaking more loudly than any word. Tyrion looked the grimmest of them all, a devastated expression taking hold of his ugly face while the two Unsullied usually devoted to his protection were towering closely behind him to make sure he would not get lost on the way back.

Still, the knot in her belly loosened at the sight of Jon, alive and unharmed as far as the eyes could make out in the dim light of a winter morning. It seemed that the commanders of her armies had all come back except her Dothrakis lieutenants. Dread slowly returned as she failed to spot any dark skinned rider among the mingling men.

“Why did you call us back?” Jon did not lose time to complain quietly as soon as he spotted her while the others lords and lieutenants were still gathering inside the commanding tent. “We’re needed in the city. Things are going out of control here. The people are panicking and the fire's spreading.”

Daenerys gave him a small sign to indicate he should go to his own place before she would answer him. She took some time to collect herself and to be sure her queenly facade was in place, looking as regal as ever and letting none of her doubts showing on her features. She had already endured so much worse, she would prevail once more. _If I look back, I am lost._

“My Lords, you will forgive me for calling you back from the fight at such a crucial time, but some circumstances have forced my hand.” She looked at the men one after the other to observe their reactions. Tyrion would not meet her eyes, looking somewhere at her feet, while the others wore guarded expressions. Northerners or Unsullied were never easy to read but she did not fear her Unsullied reactions as much as she did the others.

“Before anything else, I would like to hear what you have to say on the situation in the capital.” She gave Jon a small nod.

As Jon stepped forth to give his report, she discretely considered her Hand’s expression and behavior. For a traitor, he did not make a lot of efforts to keep his charade up, nor did he come forward to confess his crime. She gave Jon her full attention.

The first part of the plan had apparently gone well; the different sections of her armies had entered the city with ease and advanced quickly as the streets had been empty. It seemed her strategy to led Cersei astray had worked well as no one had initially opposed her forces. Then, men from the Golden Company had tried to mount a resistance, delaying the advance of the foot soldiers while her Dothrakis screamers had gone ahead. Apparently, the thrill of glory had been more appealing than staying with what they perceived as a foreign army. 

It was something that worried her before sailing to Westeros (more or less due to Tyrion’s insistent warnings). Tonight her fears were proven true; even the common enemy in the North and the ensuing battle had not been enough to create a sentiment of unity between her people and those of Westeros. Her men had bleed in the North for the North but that had been the end of it. The Northerners themselves did not come out of love for her as she observed them gathering around their savior. They came south only because Jon Snow said so.

“I find it strange that we weren’t stopped by any Lannister men when the Golden Company had enough time to gather," a northman was saying. "It looks as if they wanted to let us to pass”. 

Daenerys was able to recognize the man by sight but didn’t know him by name. What kind of queen could not name her own commanders? But then they were not truly _her_ men and that was the crux of the matter. 

The fight against the dead had come too quickly to give her the time to become well acquainted with the northern lands and its people, and after Daenerys did not had the will. Then they had hastily parted ways as she hadn't wanted to let Cersei more time to get ready. While she had flown on Drogon and eventually faced the Iron Fleet – sinking half of their fleet before they had managed to kill her second son – the northerners had all followed Jon Snow, marching far away and the occasion to know them better had been lost. In the end, these men were nearly as foreign to her as they were when she had first set foot in Winterfell. If she wasn’t so sure of Jon's allegiance and honor, she would be quite worried about their true motivations.

The northern lord who was now speaking sounded more comfortable to be the center of the attention than Jon had been even if it was the latter who had been King in the North. Daenerys considered the man's previous words. She had felt pride only a moment ago thinking she had deceived the Lannister woman with Varys' false message, but what if it was not the true reason her armies had been able to advance so quickly? What if it was due to another plan? And how could this be linked to Jaime Lannister's escape?

The northern lord continued the description of the recent battle. It was at this moment Daenerys had launched her attack on the Red Keep, a part that was certainly not on the initial plan. The displeasure of the Northerners who were present made their opinions on the subject quite clear. Her Unsullied did not express any feelings, be it approval or disapproval.

Shortly after Drogon's injury and their subsequent departure from Kings Landing, everything had gone to hell in the city. Daenerys could remember gazing at the brilliant green fire that looked so much like a rising sun from afar and having found it beautiful. Those unfortunate enough to be in the city at that time would not have the same memories of the events than her. Apparently, even the men from the Golden Company had lost faith when the sky had turn to a brilliant green and the ground had begun to shake with violence. Many chimneys and roofs had collapsed and fallen in the streets alongside the most precarious houses, a deafening blast echoing in the city at the same time. Their opponents had surrendered quickly afterward. Amidst the reigning chaos, fighting was no longer as much a priority as survival. Daenerys thought it ironic to have lost more men to stones and bricks than to actual fighting.

“Harry Strickland agreed to meet with you himself to discuss terms for his surrender. With both the Red Keep and Cersei Lannister gone, they’re open to negotiations,” the Northern lord informed her. 

“Is there no word from my Dothrakis?” Daenerys asked instead, not wanting to dwell on Cersei’s fate or the lack of deference coming from the man. A heavy silence fell on the group. 

“We received none, My Queen. They didn't send any riders to keep us informed.” Jon finally had the courage to say. 

Daenerys expression became somber. There were not many reasons that could have prevented them from sending messengers. The Dothrakis had come to Westeros because she had promised them both victory and glory, but instead it looked as if this unfamiliar city may become their graves if they had reached the wrong part of it at the wrong time. Daenerys dimly thought that she should be more distressed by the news, but her heart did not have any more tear to shed. 

“I want as many men as possible searching for my missing people,” the queen ordered. “If you can’t find any of them, try to find some clues in the city to confirm their fate.”

The men grunted in approval. The queen asked then the question that had been tormenting her this morning.

“Was that explosion caused by wildfire?” 

“It was, Your Grace.” Tyrion suddenly appeared to come out of his self-imposed silence.”A very large amount of the substance from the look of it.”

“And this is your sister's work," Daenerys affirmed bluntly. "She has blown the Great Sept of Baelor exactly in the same way. How did she put her hands on so much wildfire?“ she asked, turning an accusing look toward the dwarf. ”And how did she manage to trigger it even though I was raining down fire on her quarters?” 

“She probably hasn’t had the time to do anything” Tyrion answered quickly. “Unfortunately, it is probable that the dragon fire may have set off the wildfire when you attacked.”

“Dragon fire? Cersei did not need dragon fire to blow off Baelor’s Sept when she felt threatened, did she?” Daenerys said. “But that doesn't matter. What truly matters is the person who put the wildfire there, and of that there can be little doubts.”

For once, Tyrion choose not to respond.

“Very well. There is a way to have answers,” Daenerys declared. ”Jaime Lannister is our prisoner. As he never truly switched side, he might know his sister’s plans.” She looked at her Hand’s face as she was delivering this final blow.

“My Queen, I must beg your mercy. I have something to confess.” Tyrion did fell on his knees as he said this while still not meeting the queen's glare. 

“Yes, you do, Tyrion. But it is a little late for a confession, don’t you think?” Daenerys said as he finally raised his eyes to look at her. “I wanted to give you a chance to confess on your own, but you didn’t, not until you had no choice. And even now, you prefer to accuse my dragon instead of looking at the guilt at your own feet!”

“What does that means?” another Northman with a mermaid as a sigil asked in a displeased tone.

“That means Varys wasn’t the only traitor in our midst who worked to destroy everything I fight for.” the queen answered him, anger plain in her voice.

“Please, My Queen, that’s not true. I swear it!” Tyrion could not contain himself now that his duplicity was discovered. ”I am loyal to you and your cause. I did what I did only to save my brother and my unborn niece or nephew. Children are innocent of their parents crimes, they should not pay for them.” he said with desperation. ”I've made Jaime swear to leave Westeros with Cersei and he's vowed that we'd never heard of them again. Jaime promised he'd make the bells of Kings Landing ring in surrender when they were gone so that no one has to die for nothing.”

“Are you telling me that Cersei's still alive? That she escaped because of you?! The bells have started to ring before I could launch my attack on the Red Keep!" Daenerys screamed in fury. "I would never have attacked had I known your sister wasn’t even there!” Suddenly, the audience around her did no longer matter; she could not and did not want to try to contain herself. When she had learned of the Kingslayer's release by his brother – her own Hand – she had deliberately chosen to ignore this possible outcome, but she should have known better.

“Please, have mercy” Tyrion begged her. “I never wanted this to happen, I swear it. Never. All I wanted was to avoid a blood bath. This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Yes, and that is what you get when you trust a Lannister,” she spat. “Do you remember when I have asked you whether you were a fool or a traitor? You were not a fool, but _I_ was. I should never have put my trust in someone like you.”

“Never trust a Lannister” a voice echoed in the room.

 

❈

 

Daenerys had not thought that this day could go any worse until a messenger discretely brought her a letter from Dragonstone. After the precedent confrontation, she was in her own tent trying to rest when she received the message. The missive was short and straight to the point as could be expected from an Unsullied soldier. She managed to keep her composure while she dismissed the messenger without giving him a reply. He bowed before he left, leaving the queen alone with her thoughts and her renewed anger.

She watched eagerly the letter burn to ashes in the brazier, actually wishing it was not a letter she was looking at. Once she was sure nothing was left of the missive, she abandoned the comfort of her tent to seek out her newest prisoner.

 

❈

 

Tyrion had expected to see the queen for the next time the day of his death. He was thus quite surprised when she appeared only a few hours after ordering his brutal arrest.

Daenerys was still as beautiful as the first time he had set his eyes on her in the great pyramid of Meereen, but she was undoubtedly colder than when her only reason to hate him had been his family name. Now, her face was as frozen as a sculpture carved in marble, her perfect features gleaming under the dancing light of a torch. In contrast, the two grim Dothrakis standing closely looked like some ugly gargoyles, outlining the grotesque picture it made; a vengeful goddess surrounded by wild and brutal beasts. 

If there was one thing Tyrion would not come to regret in the light of the recent events, it was the loss of the Dothrakis. Nothing good would have come from them settling in Westeros and his recent beating at the hands of his jailer did not improve his sentiments toward them.

“Forgive my appearance, Your Grace. This is not how I would have chosen to greet you.” Tyrion said in the very uncomfortable position he was enduring, half-bent and half-kneeling on the icy ground. Common decency could have convinced the queen to grant him a reprieve for the duration of their meeting, but Daenerys was not known for her benevolence towards her enemies. _Ask the Good Masters of Astapor or the Khals she burned alive their thoughts on it_ , Tyrion mused.

“You don’t get to choose anything from now on.” The queen answered him in a voice as glacial as the ground under his knees. ”And you will spare me your little japes as I am not in the mood for any of this.” 

She approached his prostrate form at a slow pace, all the while considering him as carefully as one would an exotic specimen. No doubts he was being quite a sight in this posture, with his bloody face, his black eye and the garments he had been forced into – dirty clothes, torn out and so common. He had forgotten how much his clothes and station added to his apparent value. Having his nose standing only a few inches above the ground might not help to improve his standing either – not that it was much of a change for a dwarf. 

“I only came because there is something I want to know. Answer me truthfully and you might get a kinder fate,” the queen finally said with an expressionless mask on her face. 

One of the two Dothrakis, the one who had come with the queen, was silently laughing at his sudden revers of fortune while his dedicated jailer had a gloating expression displayed on his face, Tyrion’s blood still fresh on his fist. If the queen took notice, she did nothing to put them in their place. Tyrion liked to think she would have done something before, that the queen he followed would have punished any jailer guilty of beating a defenseless prisoner solely out of pleasure. 

But this new and colder version of Daenerys did not. Maybe his suffering and humiliation even gave her pleasure, he could not tell with certainty with her frozen expression.

“I would answer you honestly anyway, My Queen. I mean what I said earlier.” Tyrion replied nonetheless.

“Anything you say or think doesn’t matter anymore. The only thing that matters to me now is to know what else you have discussed with Sansa Stark the day she revealed Jon Snow’s heritage to you.” Daenerys said.

“We have spoken of little else beside Jon’s birth, My Queen.”

“Truly? It seems Varys doesn’t agree with you, which means one of you is lying. Or maybe both. I should have your tongue for that and Varys’ as well.” 

Daenerys did not raise her voice nor display any sign of anger. It was always thus when she was in her most dangerous state.

“And you will stop to call me your queen. I cannot bear your hypocrisy,” she added almost as an afterthought.

“I’m not an hypocrite, Your Grace. I've made an error of judgment because of my feelings, I admit it. It was a terrible mistake but it was not meant as a betrayal. Had everything happened the way I wanted it, it would not have harmed your cause. On the contrary, I would have given you Kings Landing without bloodshed. I am still loyal to you, My Queen.”

“You have already said this, but what a strange way you had to prove it.“

“Yet it is the truth. Have I not proven myself enough to you since I became your Hand?”

“I remember more clearly how many of your clever plans went awry since we came to Westeros. Though I supposed it was easy for you to think yourself loyal when we were in Essos, as long as your loyalty cost you nothing. You were no one then and I made you what you are now, or rather what _you were_ , the second most powerful people of Westeros. You had much and more to gain by staying faithful. And yet… When for the first time you had a sacrifice to make, it was no longer so easy to stay loyal.”

“Please, this isn’t true. Daenerys, I believe in you, I even came to love you.”

“And yet you betrayed me. I promised you a kinder fate if you were truthful. Don’t expect any clemency now.” The queen turned toward the exit.

“I’m being truthful! It’s Varys the one who’s lying, whatever lies he told you! He's trying to plant seeds of distrust in your mind to destroy your alliances!” Tyrion hurried to say, not certain if the queen would stay to hear him out now that her mind was made. 

“You've told me you wanted to be a fair queen, but today you decided to believe what Varys told you before I could even open my mouth. I am worried for you, Your Grace, despite what you can think of me. Varys' plan failed when you caught his raven, so now he's trying to destroy you from the inside. You shouldn’t believe anything he says.” Tyrion stopped briefly to catch his breath. 

“Do you remember why you have made me your Hand? Because I am the only one who would not mince his words and tell you the truth even if it displeased you; the only one who would remind you of your goals. And I am also the only one who would dare to tell you this: your grief have changed you, My Queen, and not for the better. You no longer gave the people the same attention you gave them in Essos. Your thoughts are all fixed on taking the Iron Throne and nothing else matters to you anymore. Even the destruction of Kings Landing doesn't trouble you as much as it should have. Are forgetting why you wanted the Iron Throne in the first place, My Queen? And who will help you to remember if I can no longer remind you?”

Daenerys did not answer. She may as well not have heard a word he said for all the reaction he got from her. Tyrion was beginning to think he had gone too far as the silence stretched for a long while, worrying she would order one of the two Dothrakis to cut off his head right there and then.

“You should rather look at your own flaws than mine. What right do you think you have to judge me after what you've done? Or to counsel me? You are no longer my Hand, you are nothing,” Daenerys spat at last. ”But in any case, I am only how the others have made me, Tyrion. You included. Do you think the gentle and caring queen I was before would have survived in such a place?”

Tyrion did not answer immediately. He was torn; a part of him felt terribly guilty, the part that could not deny the truth in Daenerys' words and agreed he deserved every bit of his suffering. But the other one, the part that insisted to find some twisted self-justifications in his actions, the part that held Daenerys responsible for this disaster, that part did not want to accept his fate so easily. 

“I am being truthful, Your Grace. The Lady Sansa and I did not say anything else the day she revealed Jon’s birth to me. Please, will you keep your promise? You once say that a queen should keep her promises for who will believe her if she doesn’t? Will you show me some mercy?” Tyrion did not truly expect her to spare his life after what he had done, but she may grant him a clean death.

“Mercy? What have mercy ever brought me but pain and sorrow?” Daenerys asked. “I was merciful before and look at what I got in exchange. No Tyrion, I won’t be merciful. I’m done with mercy.” 

She began to pace around his prone shape the way a predator would prowl around his next victim. 

”Do you remember what you have told me in Meereen, about keeping my promises as a queen? You said it didn’t matter if I keep them or not if only one person was concerned and no one else would have to suffer if I didn't. Well, this is quite a similar case, isn’t it?” 

She grinned. All that Tyrion could feel at the sight was dread. 

“You have betrayed me in the worst possible way and at the worst possible time. So many have died because you couldn’t bear to see yours siblings face justice. So much blood is on your hands. You will pay for that, no matter how much you repeat that you were loyal.”

“Then why I am not dead if that is how you truly feel?” Tyrion had always pride himself for not being a coward. He did not plan to become one now that he was faced with his own mortality. Better to know for certain what was going to happen than let his vivid imagination torture him in advance.

“Jon suggested we keep you alive in case we have need of you to find your siblings. But then it was Jon’s reasoning.” 

“Khaleesi, you want me give you his ugly head now? No need wait.” The Dothraki who had been guarding Tyrion asked, a meaningful look in his eyes and a hand on his arakh. No doubt he would enjoy taking Tyrion’s head as much as he did beating him.

“No. Not yet. Before that, we must indeed find his brother and sister. _Alive_.” She turned toward Tyrion. “You will have the time to regret ever betraying me, Tyrion. This I promise you. Your siblings will be the first to go; it will be slow and painful and I will make sure that you watch it.” she promised softly." Dragon fire will be a death too kind for you and for them." 

And with a sweep of her heavy dress, the queen turned and moved toward the exit without looking back. 

Tyrion remained bound as he was for a long time after the queen's departure, his whole body aching and shivering in the coldness of the tent. Time was passing more slowly than usual in this very uncomfortable state, with nothing to do except thinking and it was less than pleasant thoughts that occupied his mind.

Now that he knew what she intended to do, he was no longer certain it was preferable to oblivion. His only hope was that his siblings would manage to escape her grasp – at the condition that they had survived in the first place. As far as Tyrion knew, they could have died like so many others in the wildfire explosion. Nothing was truly certain. _You are going to face torture and death and it might be all for naught,_ a disagreeable voice came unbidden in Tyrion's mind, taunting him.

After a while, the blood coming from the fresh wound on his face began to congeal, slowly forming a gelatinous mass on what was left of his nose. It began to prickle while doing so. Tyrion tried to remove the drying blood by shaking his head but without much success. The Dothraki guard was looking at his attics with obvious glee. 

Soon however, he could no longer brush aside the faint prickling coming from his face as it turned to an intense itching. All his other thoughts quickly disappeared leaving only in their wake the irrepressible desire to scratch his nose. 

He tried to move his hands or rub his face on his own shoulder to put an end to the insufferable feeling, but quickly found he could not move enough for that. Tyrion swore loudly at his own helplessness. In this position, it seems the only way left for him to scratch his nose would be to rub it on the ground at the feet of the Dothraki guard, the same man who beat him in the first place. Tyrion would have liked to think he had not fallen so low.

 

❈

  

A few hours later, he was shipped back to Dragonstone by a handful of Unsullied the way one would a sack of potatoes so he could join Varys in his cell and keep him company.

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Jon and Dany, finally. I thought it would be in this chapter, but it is long enough as it is.
> 
> Don't expect too much fluff though as Jon, strangely, is not very pleased with his lover exploits. And Dany is not exactly in a good mood or well disposed toward the Starks right now.


	4. The calm before the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm looking for a beta reader. If you're interested to improve this work and help me to keep track of the various parts of the plot, let me know it!  
> You can expect roughly a chapter per month and this story will contain 15 chapters max.  
> Thanks and enjoy!

Daenerys was feeling the beginning of a headache pounding behind her forehead. It was more than time for this meeting to be over. Three hours locked with Harry Strickland, his lieutenants and the difficult men from the North were enough for one day; she would not have stand another hour of these tedious negotiations. 

Harry Strickland was a lucky man. He did very little to begin with but still managed to be paid twice to defend King’s Landing, the first time against Daenerys herself and now against what was left of Cersei’s men. 

The fact that Cersei was still alive had not been part of the information Daenerys had shared with the man. It had been difficult enough to make him switch side and offer his service to the true queen, though Daenerys could not help to think it was more out of greed than anything. The Golden Company was known to never broke a contract and Strickland had used this argument to request a higher payment than what Cersei had first promised him, even if he thought her dead. Daenerys only hoped he will continue to believe this lie until they managed to put their hands on the fleeting twins and finally make it true. 

The queen did not have a good feeling about this Strickland. The captain-general of the Golden Company was an hypocrite as well as a coward. She did not trust him nor his men any more than she could throw them, yet there was very little she could do about it. The Lannister soldiers were still fresh since they did not fight the day before while her armies were tired, injured and depleted. She needed the support of the sellswords to bolster her troops. 

She had a good use in mind for them. After all, men were needed in the city to fight the fires and destroy the ballistae – the quicker, the better – while her Unsullied and the Northmen would look for the Lannister siblings. 

_I should not forget Varys’ confession about Sansa Stark either. Probably another of his many lies, but what if not? The Lady of Winterfell is no friend of mine, that much is certain. How far would she truly go?_

As Daenerys watched the last departing lords slowly leave the tent after the meeting conclusion, she did not need to close her eyes to remember the condescending attitude of the Lady of Winterfell, her icy stare. Eyes as blue and cold as ice that would fix you, judge you and condemn you all in a heartbeat. Daenerys never even got a chance to begin with; she had understood it quite quickly after the greeting she received from the lady. This first impression had been confirmed when Sansa Stark had had the gale to ask her _“What of the North?”_ after the King in the North himself had bent the knee to Daenerys. The Lady Stark liked to conceal her true nature behind a mask of false courtesy, but the queen knew how to look through it. She herself was hiding her true feelings most of the time. 

The last lords were taking their time to leave. The queen began to become impatient, wishing they would hurry up as she was not in the mood to wait for them to finish their discussions between themselves before leaving. Of course she was implicitly excluded. Every time she tried to engage them, they would answer her curtly and end the discussion as soon as it was possible without ostensibly insulting her. To her growing irritation, they would never bring a problem to her but instead go to Jon.

 _I can’t trust any of them anymore than I can trust their lady_ , the queen thought angrily. _Except Jon. Jon would never betray me._ The knowledge brought her some measure of comfort.

She observed Jon decline the invitation of the remaining lords to escort him outside, staying behind as she had asked him at the beginning of the negotiations. 

_I must know the truth about Sansa Stark. As soon as possible,_ Daenerys thought as their eyes silently met across the tent.

She did not know what would happen if Varys was telling the truth; she was not certain she wanted to find out.

 

❈

 

Jon waited for the last lords to leave before he approached her. She had been in a terrible mood for the entire duration of the meeting. Twice he had feared the negotiations would fail because of her short temperament. She had snapped at every turn, her temper flaring at the slightest provocation – be it real or imaginary – ready to spit fire at the gathered men if they did not bend quickly enough to her will.

It would not help to appease the whispers Jon had heard about the queen. He had interfered whenever he could, pointing out Dany’s own sacrifices for the sake of the North and their lack of recognition. The men usually agreed in front of him, but it was another story once they were between themselves. They clung to their prejudices the way they clung to their pride. _The North remember, indeed._ They were all a stubborn bunch, that much he could not deny. 

“Come, Jon,” Dany said, tending him a cup of wine. He thanked her and took the offered glass without drinking. The queen was not very interested in her drink either. After a small mouthful, she lowered her own cup and put it back on the table.

Upon closer inspection, she looked more exhausted than angry, the dark circles under her eyes a testament of her troubles. Jon set down his own glass to take her hand into his in an attempt to bring her comfort, to share a part of her burden.

“What do you make of this Strickland?” the queen asked him, tightening her grip on his hand. “Am I right to accept his support?”

“He’s a sellsword. You shouldn’t put too much trust in him. They’re unreliable by nature.”

“I know sellswords can’t be too trusted.” Daenerys shook her head. “There’s something about him that disturbs me, though I can’t put my finger on what make me dislike him so much.”

“I didn’t note anything out of ordinary in the man. He’s greedy but that was expected from a sellsword. Why agree to the deal if that’s how you feel?” 

“I need them, whether I like it or not. I know Cersei’s binding her time, hiding and waiting for me or my armies to enter the city to trigger another cache of wildfire, I know it. “ Dany’s eyes darkened. “I won’t let her have any of my men, not again. It’s the Golden Company that will go into the city under the three heads dragon banner. We’ll see what happens then. If they die, so be it. If they survive, they will serve me for another day.”

“You will use them as scapegoat?”

“Better them than our men, wouldn’t you agree?” Daenerys frowned. “I don’t trust them, Jon. You will have to keep a close eye on them in my absence.”

“What? You are leaving?” Jon asked in disbelief. The queen nodded in confirmation. “Surely you can’t leave now, not after what you’ve done.” The words were out before Jon could stop them or soften their wording. Daenerys snatched her hand back as if burned. He let go of her without resisting.

“What do you mean, after what I've done?” 

She was angry suddenly, all tiredness gone from her posture. Physically, neither had moved but with those few words a drift had materialized between them.

“You've attacked the Red Keep with Drogon, that wasn’t part of the plan we've all discussed and agreed to follow,” Jon point out in a low tone, staring at her with a heavy look. ”You included.”

“I’ve changed my mind. I am the queen, it is my right. I didn’t want to let a chance to Cersei.”

“You've taken inconsiderate risks! You could have died for that!“ Jon growled, bearing suddenly a strange resemblance with Ghost, his direwolf. “Even a queen is not above reason. Now, there’s nothing left of the Red Keep but this green ball of wildfire and the city's half destroyed.”

“I've done nothing wrong! It’s all the Lannister woman’s fault; her and her damned brothers! It was Cersei who put the wildfire under the keep and Tyrion who freed his brother so he could warn her of my attack. All my careful planning, all for nothing because _my own Hand_ gave it away!“ Dany hissed, looking beyond fury. ” _So don’t you dare blame me, Jon!_ ” 

They glared at each other with the same stubborn expression on their faces. Silence fell abruptly, their rapid breathing the only sound that could be heard in the vicinity though at this rate everyone in the camp would soon know of their dispute. The tension in the tent was growing, becoming as thick and heavy as a fog until Jon broke it.

“What Tyrion did was wrong. It was beyond foolish and cost us greatly. But he was right on one thing: you can’t know whether it’s Cersei Lannister or your actions that set off the wildfire. It might be by your own hand that the city was destroyed, all for the sake of revenge. That was unnecessary, don’t you think?”

Daenerys' purple stare lost some of its anger though the queen stayed silent otherwise, as though agreeing with his logic would make her responsible of the disaster. Jon decided it was time to change the topic; she would need time to proceed what he had just told her. He remembered then what had caused this argument in the first place.

“What could be so important that you want to leave at such a crucial time?”

“Drogon’s safety. It isn’t safe for him to stay here, so close to Kings Landing.” 

“Why? He’s quite safe here.” Jon had ordered ten men to guard the dragon during his recovery while he was resting on the ground.

“I can’t control him all the time. Sooner or latter, he will want to go back to the city to get his revenge and then he’ll die. I can’t lose him, Jon. He’s the last child I’ll ever have.” Daenerys looked truly vulnerable then, like any mother desperate to preserve her last surviving child. Except said child was a dragon capable of razing an entire city to the ground if he so chose.

“Then leave with him for Dragonstone and come back without him. We need you here. It’ll be a quick travel by ship.”

“I won't agree to part with my last child, Jon. Drogon won’t leave me either. Wherever I'll go, he’ll follow me. We must stay together or I know I will lost him. I can’t lose him,” she repeated, sounding so desperate that Jon never thought to doubt her sincerity. The idea never even crossed his mind.

He nodded in acceptance though he was still worried to see the queen leave at such critical times. It must have shown on his face.

“Don’t worry, Jon, I won’t leave right now," Daenerys added in a reassuring tone. "I’ll name a new Hand before, someone who has my entire trust and whose nomination will be approved by all. Everything will be in his good hands in my absence.”

“And who is he, this man you put so much faith in?” Jon’s voice sounded slightly jealous even to his own ears.

“You, of course,” she stated with her eyebrows raised as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

 

❈

 

Later in the evening, a guard came to announce the visit of the Warden of the North. Daenerys was wondering what Jon might want to add after their last encounter as she rose from her couch to greet him. _Did he come back so we can further argue?_ She was the queen, yet he had argued at every turn and denied her.

Jon walked inside with a firm step, his face unreadable. He stopped to bow at the entrance while she dismissed the guards. As soon as they were gone, he went to her in a few determined steps, standing so close that she could feel the heat of his body through the layer of their clothes. Without warning, he took her in his arms and kiss her full on the lips. It was so sudden and unexpected after their last argument that Daenerys tensed in surprise before she relaxed in his warm embrace.

 

❈

 

Her lips were soft and pliable under his own. A queen with an iron fist she might be to anyone else, but when she was with him, she was simply a woman, always willing and eager under his touch. 

It felt as good as in his memories, a marvelous sensation he had been stupid enough to deny himself out of some absurd notion of honor. It had been a pointless struggle in the end as he could not stop his body nor his mind to crave her touch anymore that he could stop breathing. 

She must be as eager for contact as he was feeling because her hands began to touch him, exploring his face before they fell on his torso while he gently increased the pressure of his body on hers to better feel its soft curves. One of her legs wrapped itself around his hips; warmth blossomed in the lower parts of his body as their embrace deepened. 

He needed this. He needed to know she was the same woman she had been last time, that their different experiences had not changed them too much. He needed to see her as the woman he loved and not as his aunt nor as the queen. She must be Dany, only Dany, the most beautiful woman in the world, soft and strong-willed at the same time. 

He hold her even tighter to convene his feeling for her while being careful not to crush her, smelling the sweet honeyed sent coming from her gorgeous hair. She reciprocated his feeling, holding onto him for dear life. 

At this instant, it felt as if nothing had truly changed between them. And yet, nothing was exactly the same as before. Jon had seen what she could do when she unleashed her emotions, when her anger dictated her actions; he could not close his eyes and forget it so quickly.

“You frightened me today. I’ve seen a part of you that I didn’t know exist.” Jon could not keep himself from blurting these words out when he finally broke the kiss.

She had been about to smile, but her face fell. A sorrowful expression took hold of her features in its place.

Jon cursed himself for being a bloody fool; he truly knew nothing when it came to women. This was probably the last thing she wanted to hear right now after such a passionate embrace and their previous dispute. 

But he had been frightened, more that he cared to admit. Frightened for the casualties the dragon would not fail to cause when she had thrown all caution to the wind, but most of all, terrified for her own safety. He had also felt guilty as he had watched Drogon' big shape alone in the sky. What was he doing here, struck on the ground? He should have been at her side with Rhaegal as they were always meant to be. He should have stayed close, always. Instead it was Rhaegal and Dany who had paid the price.

Jon could remember feeling his heart stopped in his chest as he had watched helplessly a bolt hit Drogon, unable to do anything but look at their. At this moment, a sellsword in need of glory had nearly skewered him, profiting of the fact that Jon was distracted to attack. A singer would have made a song out of this; the last two Targaryens both struck down at the same instant hundred of yards apart. Jon had escaped the blow and engaged his opponent despite the darkness, his mind overridden with fear since he was still ignorant of Daenerys’ fate. He had fought as if possessed by a demon and the sellsword had realized his mistake only too late. By the time Jon had managed to get rid of him, Daenerys had similarly recovered from her brush with death.

Jon should have felt better seeing Drogon's huge shadow rising in the sky, but it was at this moment that he had sighted them. A man that Jon knew by sight, a soldier hailing from White Harbor and so under his responsibility, had caught a woman who must have been a whore to be still outside during the night. The short battle was over. Barely concealed by the darkness, the soldier was raping her in front of everyone without any shame or restraint. Jon had been the only one to react; the guilty man was dead before he had the time to hit the ground. Thinking of it again made the same feeling of disgust reappear in Jon's stomach. War can truly turn ordinary men into monsters when their blood were up.

“Sometimes a woman has to be ruthless to survive in this world of men,” Daenerys' wary answer mirrored Jon's current line of thinking, jostling him away from his dark thoughts. He forced himself to put the memories away to remember where he was and what they had been discussing. 

“I am sorry, Dany. I shouldn’t have said what I said earlier when you wanted to name me your Hand. Forgive me.” He had not expected to be named Hand of the Queen and she had had the misfortune to bear the blunt of his disapproval.

“Does that mean that you’ll agree?” She had a hopeful expression on her face.” Will you accept the position, even temporarily?”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea? Any other man could do better than me.”

“They have all betrayed me, these other men,” the queen muttered, sorrow and pain evident on her face. For once there were emotions on her perfect face as it was only for Jon’s eyes to see. “You are not like them.”

Daenerys focused her gaze on his solemn face. "You are the most honorable, the most honest man I have ever met and I love you for this. Promise me that you won't betray me, Jon.“ She took his hand into hers and put it over her beating heart. ”My heart could not bear it if you did. Promise me that you will never betray me.” She was not certain she could take any more betrayals, but there was one thing she was sure of. If Jon were betray her, it would kill her.

“You are the queen I choose. I shall never betray you, you have my word.” Jon looked at her with an intense stare she returned. He lovingly placed one of his hand on her cheek. Her skin was smooth and soft as liquid honey, so perfect under his callous palm that the mere contact reignited the burning desire in his body. She was truly a beautiful woman.

A lower man would not have waited to gave in to his urge, but Jon was better than that. _Love is the death of duty_ , a wise man once told him and so love would have to wait a bit more as duty must always come first.

“I am yours to command, My Queen, but that don’t mean I won’t give you my point of view whether you like it or not. I really believe the people of Kings Landing should see their queen. They must see you for who you really are before you leave,” he insisted.

“This won’t last long, my love. It is only a matter of days before I am back. Cersei won’t hide forever and then nothing will stop me from coming back.”

“Dany… Let the people see you. Let them love you.”

“As soon as I can, I promise you this is the first thing I’ll do. Until then, my Unsullied and your Northmen will keep the peace under your command. Keep an eye on the Golden Company. I don’t trust Strickland not to stab us in the back,” she lower her glance as she realized her poor choice of words.

“You know how good I am at all this,” Jon said with a resigned sight. 

“And who shall I name as my Hand if not you? Who can I trust enough for this?” Daenerys asked as she raised back her eyes to look at his somber face.” I have learned in Meereen that my Unsullied are not good at keeping the peace no matter how devoted they are to me; the other lords I cannot trust enough to give such power. I am sorry, Jon, but it has to be you.”

It was Jon’s turn to drop his eyes. He exhaled loudly and gave a reluctant agreement. Daenerys’ heart soared.

“Beside, you should try to get used to have power, my love. You were once a king but I have yet to see someone flee as quickly as you when offered such position.” 

“It’s because I know how much trouble power is worth.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic, Jon. Perhaps you will be so good at being Hand of the Queen that I will name you at this position definitively,” she added in a teasing tone, an impish smile on her lips. It was the only moment of satisfaction she got since the defeat of the Others, which had taken place more than a moon turn ago. In truth, it seemed to belong to another lifetime. She did not want to waste this instant.

“Is that so? Am I to be your Hand until the day I die?” Jon seemed to have caught her new mood for he answered her in a lighter tone.

“Is there something else you’d rather do?” Daenerys asked innocently with a raised eyebrow. “Another title you’d prefer, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” was Jon only answer but his eyes were telling another tale.

“Well, we shall see, won’t we? But let us speak of something else. Or even better, let’s not speak at all. I’m more interested to see what these _hands_ can do,” Daenerys said while gently taking Jon’s hands to place them on her body generous curves. “If you are good enough, I may change my mind about making you my Hand forever…” she told him playfully, feeling for once every bit like the young girl of eight and ten that she truly was.

 

❈

 

“I needed this. I didn’t know how much but I did.” Daenerys said once they had totally exhausted themselves, still breathless from their lovemaking. “To know that something good still exists in this world, that there is more to living that only death, sorrow and grief.” 

 

They had laid on a pile of furs in front of the fire like some wild beasts, naked as their name days. Daenerys did not feet like a queen at the moment but more like one these wildlings she had met in Winterfell and that Jon loved so much. To feel like somebody else, to escape the burden of the crown to be only a woman with a man, with no title, no trouble and no expectation besides those of an ordinary life was a terrific experience, more liberating than she thought it possible even if it was only for one evening. 

They had done it three time. One time has not been enough to sate them after an entire moon of abstinence. A second time had been better but Dany had stayed on the very edge of her release, so close and yet unable to reach her peak as if her own worries were preventing her from attaining it. Her frustration had melt away the third time when at last she had reached her climax. The world had dissolved into nothingness as for a blissful moment only pleasure existed.

They were still laying on the ground covered by the furs. Jon was relaxed, a peaceful look on his face. He was close to smiling.

 _Smile_ , she prayed in her head. _Just this once. I have never seen you smile. Please_ , she added, but the moment came and went and Jon did not smile. His eyes were slowly closing themselves as the exhaustion finally took over his body and he began to drift into another world. Daenerys could not stop the disappointment she felt at not seeing his smile. _Next time_ , she vowed. She would make sure that there would be many next times in the future and that Jon would have plenty of reasons to smile.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never read a story where Jon is named Hand to Queen Daenerys. 
> 
> After watching the show and seeing Jon repeats "she's my queen" endlessly in the last season as if it's the only thing he can say, I wanted to give him a true position of power. I loved Jon the most in the book (no offense meant to Kit puppy eyes) when he decided to hang Janos Slynt for disobedience.
> 
> We shall see what Jon will do with his new power in two chapters, as next one will focus on Daenerys' stay on Dragonstone. Two traitors and no pesky advisors or lover to curb her determination; Varys and Tyrion will learn that waking the dragon was a very, very bad idea.


	5. Our choices seal our fates (part one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was never going to finish this chapter!
> 
> I wish I could tell you it was because I went to a long and well deserved vacation, but the truth is that I had to work twice as hard during this summer than the rest of the year. Now, winter is coming and I'm going to have much more time to write.
> 
> Camille kindly edited the two first chapters of this story, but she doesn't have enough free time right now, so I'm still looking for a beta!!

A piercing sound abruptly woke Jon and Daenerys the following day. As they were hurrying to dress themselves in the semi-darkness of the tent, they heard a commotion outside. It was very early; the sun had not yet risen though it was not totally dark either. Daenerys noted as she came outside that the greenish glow in the sky was still visible, but it was less intense than the previous day.

Grey Worm was standing in front of her tent with two Northern Lords as well as several guards. The two lords and her commander were arguing and were not being very discreet about it. 

“Your Grace, where is the Warden of the North?” one of the arguing men, the stout one, asked as soon he saw her. She was able to recognized him as the acting Lord of White Harbor during Lord Wyman's recovery – if the man ever recovered from his injury. The other lord was probably one of his vassals.

“What is the meaning of this?” she answered his question with one of her own while the last bits of sleepiness were slowly dissipating from her tired body.

“My Queen, I apologize for disturbing your rest, but we have just heard two detonations coming from Kings Landing,” Grey Worm informed her. “The first one was faint but the second very loud.” Daenerys had heard only one of them. For once, she had been soundly asleep.

“Yes, I've heard. Do you know what caused it?” she asked the men.

“It could be another wildfire explosion, but we can’t know for certain seeing we have no eyes inside the city wall anymore,” Lord Manderly replied. 

The lord said the last words in a condescending tone as if she was a foolish girl who did not know what she was doing. His lack of respect made her hackle rose. Who was this man to dare to doubt her judgment? If she had she not given the order to retreat, everyone would have burnt to death in the city; Cersei Lannister would have seen to that. True, it had not been her only motivation for calling them back at the time, but she had been right to do it. 

“Your Grace, there is a quick way to confirm whether the detonation we've heard is due to another wildfire explosion or not,” Lord Manderly added before she could snap at the man and defend her choice.

“What do you suggest, my Lord?” she asked, keeping her voice neutral with great efforts.

"Your Grace, with the help of your dragon, you could reach Kings Landing in a heartbeat; see what is happening there. If it's another burst of wildfire, you could not miss it even if you stayed high in the sky,” he told her. Daenerys could not help but wonder if the man had spared a single thought for her safety before he suggested this. _Probably not_ , she thought with contempt.

“It is too dangerous for the queen. Her dragon was injured the last time. It could happen again,” Grey Worm reminded the Northern lord.

“Not if she stays very high in the sky. It's still dark,” Lord Manderly retorted.

“If the detonation was caused by wildfire, there is nothing the queen can do about it. We should not risk her safety.”

It seemed that this had been the reason why the men had been arguing earlier; her Unsullied commander did not want her to take such an unnecessary risk while Lord Manderly deemed it worth it.

While they continued to argue as if she was not standing in front of them, she spotted Jon who was coming toward them, doing a good job of pretending he had not slept in her tent but in his. _Except that if your lords came to mine, they know you weren’t in yours_ , she thought with mirth and offered him an unabashed smile once he reached them.

“My Queen,” he said with a short bow and a slight frown. “My Lords. What is going on?”

Daenerys informed him in a few words of the topic they had been discussing. Before Jon could voice his own opinion, she took a decision. 

“I will go and see what is happening in the city,” she stated. Her tone was final and for once, no one dared to say otherwise. 

Despite his worried expression, Jon stayed silent as well. She knew he would not contradict her in front of the Northern lords as it would undermine her authority. He was probably waiting until they were alone to dissuade her from going.

She did not let him enough time for that, though. In her mind, she reached for Drogon and called him. Dragons usually healed quickly and she believed he was well enough to fly again. Beside, Lord Manderly was not totally wrong. One of the advantage of having a dragon was the possibility to monitor their enemies' moves with ease. It was a good opportunity to check that their foes were not taking advantage of this reprieve to act behind their back.

A strident cry made everyone rise their head and look at the sky in search of the source of the noise. The lord who came with Manderly was the first to catch sight of the dragon, a mixture of emotions on his face alternating between awe and fear. 

Daenerys walked a little bit away from the crowd that had gathered. Drogon landed in front of her, sending snow flying all around him. She brushed impatiently the snow that had landed on her cloak and came closer to pet his snout in greetings. The dragon closed his eyes in contentment and began to purr.

 _My love, are you well enough to carry me?_ she asked him after a while. The dragon reopened his red eyes and snorted; of course he was. She pictured their destination in her mind and the dragon was even more eager. _We are only going to watch, not to attack_ , she warned him, her mental voice firm. The dragon stayed silent and Daenerys took this as an agreement.

She mounted on his back with carefulness to avoid to injure herself on his sharp-edged scales, then glanced at Jon one last time. 

He was trying to conceal his concern for her, but he was miserably failing. A twinge of guilt surged through the queen for doing this to him, but she squashed the feeling before it could made her change her mind. No one but her could mount Drogon and reach Kings Landing quickly. She would stay high in the sky; nothing would happen to her.

As soon as she was settled as comfortably as she could between two hard spikes, the dragon took off in a swirl of wings. All the tents and men of the camp were reduced to little dots lost among the pale green landscape. The higher they flew the colder the air became, making Daenerys grateful for the warm clothes she was wearing. Drogon was as strong as ever and it felt wonderful to be flying again with no impending battle looming over them.

She directed Drogon East toward Kings Landing. The capital was only a small speck where the green light originated from. Strangely, even though they flew closer, its radiance did not grow. On the contrary, the intensity of the green fire was decreasing with each beat of Drogon’s wings. As they were reaching the boundaries of the capital, its last dying rays disappeared under their eyes and the city was engulfed in the darkness once more, except for the area where ordinary fires were still burning. 

She made Drogon flew around the city a few times, remembering that she was here to find the source of the detonation that had woken them. However, after a while, she had to gave up as she could not find its cause. All she knew for sure was that it was not due to another explosion of wildfire. 

The wildfire had been burning only for an entire day. They should count themselves lucky because it could have been so much worse. The wildfire could have lasted for an entire week and turn the whole city to ashes. 

Daenerys prayed that the worst was behind her now. There was no sign of troops’ movement in the city nor in its surroundings. It gave her hope that the situation might take a turn for the better. 

If only they had managed to catch the Lannister siblings... Everything would have been over.

 

❈

 

The following night, once she had taken care of everything she had to do before leaving, Daenerys mounted Drogon again. She made him follow a North-East direction this time.

One hour later, the Dragonmont appeared in the horizon. As she flew closer, she began to distinguish the dark shadow of the castle looming above the shores. In the darkness, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

She directed Drogon towards the spot she used when she wanted to make an unnoticed entrance. It was a touchy landing situated at the top of one of the cliffs, but Drogon knew how to approach it. There was a door nearby leading inside the castle that was rarely used and lightly guarded. The Unsullied guard on duty dropped to a knee upon sighting the queen. Daenerys hurried through the small door and went directly to her chamber for another good night of sleep, profound and undisturbed if not short. 

When she woke up the next morning, she was feeling much better and more refreshed than she had these past days. A servant came to help her with her morning ablutions. The maid, a shy girl of five and ten names day, seemed terrified of the queen. She was in a constant hurry, obeying Daenerys’ every word in silence, her fearful eyes never meeting the queen's. 

The maid began to undo Daenerys' braid. She removed the tiny bells kept in the silvery locks and put them on the table in front of the mirror. There were twelve of them. Twelve victories worth remembering. The queen closed her eyes and tried to recall each victory while the girl started to brush her hair with gentle strokes, disentangling the little knots caught during the previous flight. After a short while, Daenerys reopened her eyes. The gesture was wrong, the force behind it was wrong and the girl herself was wrong.

“Leave,” the queen snapped more rudely than she wanted, dismissing the maid before her work was done. The mousy girl squeaked and scurried away as if her life was depending on it. 

A powerful wave of nausea overcame Daenerys once she was alone. Dear and loyal Missandei had liked to brush Dany’s hair until it was as shining and smooth as silk. In return, Daenerys herself had brushed Missandei’s dark locks. Her hair had been difficult to do, always rebelling under her ministration. 

It would have been unseemly for the queen to act as a serving girl had it been with anyone else but Missandei. Daenerys was a queen and it was not something she could ever forget save with her closest friend. But Missandei was gone, leaving a huge void behind, a hollow place in Dany’s heart. Such a strong friendship did not happen often in one’s life.

Here on Dragonstone, Daenerys was totally alone. She missed Jon fiercely; staying away was painful in a physical sort of way. She hoped it had not been a mistake to come here, that the truth she was going to extract from Varys would be worth isolating herself from her lover and last loyal ally.

She took the brush the girl had left on the table, her grief still raw. She usually enjoyed doing her hair herself, braiding them in the intricate style of the Dothrakis’, but today, the gesture was not bringing her any peace.

The queen put back the brush where she had taken it and went to the window in the hope that some fresh air might do her good.

She opened the large wooden frame and got her first real look of the island since her arrival. What she saw made her felt as if she had been slapped in the face, her grief completely forgotten at the sight that greeted her.

How naive she had been to assume that the disaster that had hit the capital would have spared Dragonstone. She should have known better; this place was too close to Kings Landing. The huge wave had come here as well, leaving a profound mark on these lands. A phenomenon of such violence was bound to have devastating consequences on any island, particularly one like Dragonstone where three quarters of the population lived near the shores. From what she could see, only the castle had been spared thanks to its higher situation.

 _How could I have believed for one second that anything would ever go well in my life?_ she thought in disbelief.

 

❈

 

Daenerys had realized she needed a true maester at Dragonstone the moment she had started to suspect Varys of having ulterior motives. When the Spider had insisted that they laid siege to the capital rather than storming it under the pretense of caring for the good of the realm and its people, her doubts had been confirmed. Daenerys failed to see how slowly dying of hunger would be any less painful than dying by the sword. The latter might be more brutal but at least it was quick.

Thus, she had sent a raven to the Citadel to remind them of their duties. Any keep worthy of its name deserved a maester. Without one, Varys had been tasked with the handling the ravens. He had known all Daenerys’ secrets and plans, had a free access to the rookery and the queen’s vast resources. In addition, the Spider had strengthened his own personal web of knowledge as soon as they had landed on Westeros thanks to his little birds' tidings.

That was why his betrayal had such a great potential for disaster. Who knew what piece of information he had shared and with whom? How much his actions had undermined Daenerys’ own plans? Varys had been put under question many days ago. The man had revealed some of his secrets, but the most difficult part was yet to come: discerning the truth from all the lies that came out of his mouth. 

Daenerys’ first raven to the Citadel asking for a maester had been unanswered. Dragonstone was cut from the outside world and as the temporary seat of the Queen of the Seven Kingdom, it was an inconceivable situation. The second raven she had written – and the last one she had for the Citadel – must have been more convincing for barely a moon later, a ship coming from Oldtown had dock here.

Now, the answer to her demands stood in front of her in the form of a handsome young man with tanned skin and dark brown hair, a brand new chain gleaming around his neck. The chain was constituted of links in different metals, but it looked smaller than the one the maester at Winterfell had worn. Luckily, the new maester had arrived three days ago. A day later and his ship would have sunk to the bottom of the see with the rest of the queen’s fleet.

“What is your name, maester?” Daenerys asked the young man.

“Benioff. Maester Benioff,” he answered with a slight stuttering as well as an accent that, having lived a large part of her life in exile, sounded foreign to Daenerys’ ears. 

The maester seemed to be enough motivated and knowledgeable if a bit young. He had a kind face that you want to trust instinctively. However, Daenerys was no longer the same naive girl she had been, a girl who had been too trusting and had paid a high price for her foolishness. She would never trust anyone easily for appearances were often deceiving. Given the possibility, the most amenable man was as likely to stab you in the back as anyone else when faced with the right incentive.

“Well, come then. We have much to do,” she told the young man who followed her dutifully five steps behind her.

Their first task was to go outside to access the damage done to the town and the harbor. The weather was unpleasant. In Kings Landing, it would have been snowing, but here, it was an icy rain that was falling from the grey sky. Soon, Daenerys found herself soaked to the bones despite her warm cloak.

Once she reached the town, the new maester and a heavy escort in tow, she saw that the damages were as extensive as she had feared.

Everywhere she looked, she could see utter chaos and destruction. Most of the fishing boats were gone, swallowed by the huge wave that had hit Dragonstone at its full force. The houses built on the lower part of the town had been smashed as if a big fist had crushed them. A desperate aura clung around the survivors, the same way their soaked clothes clung to their skin. The wave had come two nights ago while they had been sleeping, turning their world upside down. They were still shaking with both coldness and fear. 

She came forward to speak to the crowd that had gathered around her. They did not seem to be aggressive, only lost and terrified. She looked at their desperation and felt a strong need to bring them hope.

“Good people of Dragonstone,” she declared loudly. “Our enemies, the Lannisters, have just committed their last crime. When my armies came to Kings Landing to put an end to their abject tyranny, the Usurper Queen Cersei Lannister, in her madness, used wildfire to destroy the Red Keep and a part of the capital rather than surrendering to our just cause. Her last act also caused the huge wave that has destroyed your homes.”

“These are dark times, but there is still hope. As the Queen of the Seven Kingdom, I promise you that help will come to you as soon as possible. I will write to the Manderlys of White Harbor, telling them their queen requests that they send food and supplies to Dragonstone without delay.” 

At these words, the people gathered around the queen let out a murmur of approbation. 

“Cersei Lannister was the one responsible of your misery, but I can tell you that you have been avenged. The Mad Queen is dead. She died during the battle, burnt alive in the Red Keep by the fires she had herself created. May she burn forever in the Seven Hells!” 

“We have crushed our enemies during this last battle and the Usurper is gone, but not all the Lannisters are yet dead. Be sure that all those implicated in these abominable crimes will be severely punished. I promise you to bring back justice to these lands.”

“Good people of Dragonstone,” she said again. “Do not be afraid for your lives. I, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of my Name, swear that I will not forget you nor your plight. I will make sure that your needs are taken care of. We will go through this winter together and when the spring will come, we will all live to see it!”

 

Everyone cheered loudly as soon her speech was over. A little girl moved forward under the applause and approached the queen with hesitation. Daenerys could see she was holding something in her hand. The young girl hold out her arm and opened her palm. She was holding a crocus, a very common flower on Dragonstone that could bloom even under a thin layer of snow. The girl must have found it among the ruins this morning. 

“It’s for you,” she sputtered.

“Thank you, sweet girl. It is a lovely flower,” Daenerys told her with a genuine smile.

The girl blushed. Without further ado, she ran back to her parents and was soon swallowed by the crowd. 

 

Under the icy rain, the cheering died as quickly as it had arisen. Daenerys decided then it was time to return to her castle. 

On her way back, she saw the same desperate expression on the face of people she crossed path with. Those who were living at the border of the town had not heard her speech, but she was shivering way too much to say it again. All she wanted was to hurry back to the safety and the warmth of her castle. The smallfolk, however, would not have this chance.

“Do you think we could house some of the people who have lost the most inside the castle ?” she asked the maester. “There is plenty of spare room right now and it’s so cold out there. I don’t like the idea of mothers with their babies sleeping outside in this weather.”

“Your Grace, this is an admirable sentiment, but if I were you, I would not let the smallfolk settle in your castle.”

“Are you not sensible to their plight, Maester?”

“Of course I am, My Queen, but I must be realistic as well. Inviting them inside would be a recipe for disaster. Some would use this opportunity to steal from you, others would resort to violence in case of a food shortage. It is better to have a wall standing between us and them when they will decide to riot. Beside, we are not from the same world. It would be unseemly to allow them to live in the same castle as the Queen of the Seven Kingdom. How would they know to show their better respect if they began to think there is no difference between a highborn lady and a lowborn fisherman?”

Daenerys was too cold to argue and insisted no more at the time. 

 

Later, back in the safety of her own castle, the queen could still heard them; the mother’s wails and the men’s angry shouts. Her promise of help had eased their fears for a short while, but the tension was growing again. It was palpable even through the thick wall of the fortress.

The men were on edge and rightly so. The maester feared the tense atmosphere in the town would degenerate, that the people would riot once they realized they had lost their means of survival. A huge part of the population were fishermen who heavily rely on their catches to feed themselves. With their fishing boats gone, what would they eat? Even with the help of White Harbor, it would not take long for them to feel the clasp of hunger.

_Wouldn’t it be ironic to have survived the threat in the North only to die of starvation and disease?_

Help would come, she tried to reassure herself. Tomorrow, she would write to White Harbor. If they did not send her a satisfactory answer, she would even ask Jon to help her to convince the Manderlys to share their food. She did not want to have to resort to violence for this; she would use it only if necessary. 

Tomorrow, she would also take the time to think of a way to make use of the spare rooms in this castle without inviting trouble at the same time.

 

But first, she had to pay a visit to one of her prisoners before Tyrion’s arrival.

 

❈

 

“I am impressed, Your Grace. I did not expect you to forge false proofs to get rid of a councilor. This is a move I would have expected from Cersei Lannister,” Varys said to the queen in lieu of greetings when she came to interrogate him. The Spider observed her reaction with attention. He had managed to catch her off guard and for a short while, she was at a loss for words. 

“I am nothing like Cersei, Varys. I didn’t need to forge anything; you betrayed yourself well enough,” she replied at last. It had taken her a long time to answer as if she had others things weighing on her mind.

Varys fixed her face, searching for any sign of guilt. He found none. She was either telling the truth or better at concealing her lies than he thought her capable of.

“It was not you,” he finally breathed, assuming it was the former. “I was not certain whether you would do such a thing or not, Your Grace.”

Varys was about to speak again but the queen was quicker.

“My men told me you have been cooperative,” she declared as if he had not spoken earlier.

“Did they also told you that I’m being framed?”

“Yes, they did, as well as your confession regarding Sansa Stark and her treasonous behavior.”

“My Queen, we will talk of Lady Stark as mush as you wish, but first we must speak of the crime I am unjustly accused of,” Varys said, keeping the conversation in the right direction. “It wasn’t me who sent the raven you intercepted, Your Grace. I would never betray you to Cersei Lannister, the mere thought is absurd. I work for the betterment of the realm and keeping Cersei Lannister in a position of power is the last thing I want. Someone is framing me,” Varys maintained. He hoped she would hear how sincere he sounded.

“An interesting notion, Lord Varys. Only, it would have been more credible if the missive I intercepted wasn’t written by your own hand.” 

“A writing can be forged, Your Grace. I have in mind a few names of men who excel at this. For a few golden dragons, you’d be surprised of what they can accomplish. You would not even recognize your own handwriting from theirs.”

“Even if this was true, no one knew I ordered the raven to be shot down. So, tell me, what would be the point of sending a message with a handwriting that looked like yours if no one expected it to be intercepted?” 

“My Queen, it is possible that one of the men who was tasked with the shooting of the ravens talked. All I can tell you for sure is that I would never send such sensitive details by raven. As Master of Whispers, I know all too well how unreliable ravens can be. They are lost or intercepted all the time, as it was the case here. If I had planned to betray you, I would not have done so in such way, not with the army of little birds I had at my disposal ready to do my bidding. I would have tasked one of them to deliver this message personally.”

“Unless you were desperate,” the queen countered. “A desperate man can sometimes take desperate measures. You would have send the message by raven if you weren’t certain it would reach the Lannister woman in time.”

“By ship, it takes only two days to reach Kings Landing from Dragonstone and you made us believe that the attack would happen three days latter. It still doesn’t make sense to send the message by raven, Your Grace.”

“Perhaps.” Daenerys’ voice was laden with skepticism. She considered him with a thoughtful expression.

“Very well. Let us pretend for a moment that I believe you, Lord Varys. Tell me then, who would want to frame you and what would he gain by doing so?”

“I had a lot of time to think these last days, My Queen. I believe there are many people who could have a good reason to do this, but there are three in particular that have, or had, my full attention. I hope you can forgive me for once thinking you could be one of them. I feared that we had disagreed so much on how best to take Kings Landing that I had angered you to the point you wanted to remove me from your court. I understand now that it was not the case.” Varys inhaled deeply. “If not you, I am inclined to think it was the lady Sansa Stark.”

“Sansa Stark? Why her? I can’t see what she would achieve by framing you.”

“I am afraid Lady Stark wish to see me dead, Your Grace, even more so if it is on your own orders. You are not the kind of ruler that sentences innocent men to death, but it is well known how you deal with traitors. My fate would be sealed if you thought I had betrayed you.”

“Make sense, Varys. I still can’t see why she would do that. Not that I doubt she could with a good reason.” The queen was impatient now; he did not have a lot of time left. He had to go straight to the point.

“My Queen, a fortnight before you were attacked by the Iron Fleet, a raven left Winterfell for the capital. It is my belief that it was meant for Euron Greyjoy and that the Lady of Winterfell herself had written it. One my little bird, a girl named Kira, found it very suspect and sent a message to warn me. Unfortunately, seeing that I don’t use ravens, the girl’s message took too long to reach me and I receive the missive only a day before my arrest.” 

“Sansa Stark sent a letter to my enemies? If you’re as innocent as you want me to believe, why wasn’t I informed of this? Unless you think you had better things to do with your time?”

“Of course not, Your Grace. I was worried when I learned of this, but Kira’s message was not very forthcoming. My little birds sing their songs to me, but it is up to me to catch the whole picture. In this case, I wanted to gather more evidences before I came before you. What could I tell you otherwise? That a girl saw the Lady of Winterfell send a letter to Kings Landing and found it strange? I had no real proof to show; all I had were my guesses.”

“And what would those be, Varys?”

“I thought long and hard about the recent events, Your Grace. There is little else I can do in such a place," he said while designing his surroundings with his hands. "I came to the conclusion that it was Sansa Stark who warned the Ironborn of the path you wanted to take when you flew South with your two dragons. That would explain how they knew were to ambush you, because _I know it wasn’t me_ who warned them. This would make Sansa Stark responsible of Rhaegal’s death.”

“Why would she do that? Rhaegal was Jon’s mount and she considers Jon her brother.”

“Not like a true brother though. He was only a half-brother to her, the illegitimate one. And now, she knows Jon is her aunt’s son, not even her father’s. Would she truly care for her cousin’s dragon?”

Conflicting emotions were playing on the queen’s face. Varys could see she wanted to contradict him but couldn't find the right words. 

“Do you know what is Lady Stark’s most ardent desire since she is a young maid?” Varys asked, anticipating her line of thinking.

“No, I don’t,” Daenerys said in a tone that reflected her dislike of the turn this conversation was taking.

“Sansa Stark wanted to go South, Your Grace. Her greatest wish was to become queen. She dreamed to be the next Queen of the Seven Kingdom, to live in the capital and rule with the king from the Red Keep as your ancestors once did. This is not an unusual wish for a highborn lady.” 

“To that end, she convinced her father, Lord Eddard Stark, who was then Warden of the North and a great friend to King Robert Baratheon, to betroth her to Prince Joffrey. At that time, Joffrey was believed to be the King’s eldest son and heir. However, Lady Stark’s plans crumbled entirely when the true nature of the bastard prince was revealed. Lord Eddard lost his head and war followed. The lady had to change her plans and revise her ambitions.”

“If she couldn’t be Queen of the Seven Kingdom, her second wish was to become Queen in the North. She had the right birth to claim these frozen lands and with the whole strength of the Vale behind her, it was an attainable goal. When she decided to take back Winterfell with Jon Snow’s help, she did not warn her half-brother that, thanks to Peter Baelish or Littlefinger as many called him, she had gained the Vale’s support. Lady Stark waited until the very end of the battle before she ordered the Knights of the Vale to enter the fray. Did she wait so much in the hope that Jon Snow would perish during the attack? I can’t say with certainty. All I know is that it was a costly battle for the Stark, but they emerged victorious thanks to her. Therefore, it was Sansa Stark who should have been named Queen in the North. And she would have been, hadn’t her bastard brother stolen her birthright under her nose. Even though she was the one who had won the Battle of the Bastards, she was only a woman and not worth much in the eyes of the Northern Lords. When the time came, they all chose the illegitimate son Jon Snow as the next King in the North rather than her, a lady of high birth and the eldest surviving Stark. I am sure it left her with a very bitter aftertaste.”

“It was the second time her plans were foiled, her efforts wasted. She must have begun to despair to ever to reach her goal when a new occasion arose unexpectedly. She learned that her bastard half-brother was not in fact her brother at all but her cousin. Your own nephew, Your Grace. A trueborn Targaryen, hidden during all those years to spare him his siblings’ fate. It changed everything.”

“Did I mention that said cousin is not promised to anyone yet? Being only her cousin and not her brother, Lady Stark could wed him. With the Vale’s strength behind her, she is even the best candidate after you. Seeing that Jon Snow is also the last member of your family, he is naturally your heir. So, it seems that the greatest obstacle between Sansa Stark and the throne was you and all she had to do to get rid of you was to send a raven to your enemy, indicating the path you would take to reach Dragonstone. Littlefinger must have taught her well. I am sure he told her to always keep her hands clean and she did it. Beside, she had no reason to fear for her cousin’s life as she made him change his mind about flying South on his dragon. I was told it had not been very difficult to convince Jon Snow to lead the Northern army on the ground rather than flying at your side.”

“One good shot and it would have been Drogon, not Rhaegal, who would have fallen to his death and you with him. It was all it would have taken for Sansa Stark’s dreams to come true. So, you see, Your Grace, for Lady Stark, risking Rhaegal’s life must have been worth it.”

“This is why she betrayed you, why she wanted me dead before I could tell you any of this. Before I was arrested, I was trying to collect more proofs of her guilt. If only one of my little birds in the Red Keep had heard something… Alas, I had so much things to do and so little time. Sansa Stark was quicker.”

“Kira had not been very discreet in her spying and was afraid that the lady knew she was one of my little birds. I fear greatly for the girl’s life; Lady Stark has certainly caught her and learned that I suspected her.”

“Therefore, Lady Stark had to make sure to discredit me and that I would not live long. If she could find a way – and she did – to make you think I had betrayed you, she would kill two birds with one stone. You would not believe a thing I told you and you would also lost one of your last loyal councilor.”

“It was not even difficult to achieve this. Dragonstone was full of Northerners, some of them more loyal to their lady than to their bastard king. One must have heard you ordering the ravens to be shot down and acted to ensure I would lost all credit in your eyes. I am sure Littlefinger told Sansa Stark how to keep her hands clean. He must have told her something along these lines. _The best way to keep you hands clean, sweetling, is to let the others do the dirty job for you. Keep your enemies at each other throat so they will destroy themselves, all of this with little danger to you._ “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's convincing, isn’t he?  
> Do you think the queen will believe him? And what would you do if you were in her place?


	6. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to everyone who left a comment on the previous chapter! It always make me very happy to read them; it means a lot for me to know that this story has not been forgotten.
> 
> This new chapter is not at all the one I had planned to post. It is an interlude that takes place at Winterfell roughly one moon before the previous events.

  


_**Winterfell,  
one moon before the previous events**_

“Stop her! Stop this girl!” 

In her peripheral vision, Kira saw people turning in the direction of the voice, stunned looks appearing on their faces. The usually composed Lady of Winterfell was running madly, one hand holding her heavy dress to avoid falling in the snow that had accumulated in the courtyard, while screaming at her people to catch the girl she was chasing. Usually, it was Arya Stark who enjoyed making a spectacle of herself in such a way.

The instant of surprise was all Kira needed. The people stopped gawking at their lady to look at her and move in her direction, but not quickly enough. Kira was as nimble as a cat; she avoided them with ease. Some went after her. The young maid ran as she had never done before, the fear giving her wings. The gate was so close. Only three guards left and she would escape.

“Got yeh!” 

One of the guards, a tall, bulky man, had caught Kira’s arm while she was trying to run past him. He yanked at her as if he wanted to pull her arm out of its shoulder socket. She screamed, losing her balance and they both fell on the dirty snow. Filth smeared her pretty face and then the man’s weight was crushing her, his foul breath hot on her neck. Pain erupted from her entire body, her left arm throbbing so awfully it made her eyes water.

“Lady Stark! Over here! We got the girl!”

The exit was so close, Kira could see it through her blurred vision. She desperately tried to wriggle free of the man’s grip, but he was too heavy. She could not move, let alone escape. As he pressed her face on the muddy ground to hold her still and she began to suffocate, Kira understood that her luck had finally run out. 

Distantly, the girl heard the mocking voice of Jaime Lannister. 

“Everything’s alright, Lady Stark?” the man was asking with false solicitude.

Sansa Stark’s scathing reply, telling him to move away because how she dealt with thieves was none of his concern, sounded very faraway.

 

❈

 

When they had tried to drag her away, Kira had trashed like a wild animal. In return, the guards had beaten her until the pain had made her lose consciousness, allowing her captors to carry her. At some point, they must have reached their destination as they had dropped her on the hard, cold ground of a cell, jolting her brutally awake. 

The cell was totally dark. There was no window to let the feeble light of the sun in. Kira did not dare to explore her surroundings in her state. 

Her whole body was sore, but her left arm was what worried her the most. Each time she had tried to move it, the pain had been terrible. Even now, as she was carefully supporting its weight with her other hand, it was still mercifully throbbing. In addition, her arm was totally limp and useless, like a dead weight hooked to her shoulder.

When a jailer came to hang a few burning torches in preparation for Lady Stark's arrival, Kira was still sitting at the place were she had been unceremoniously dumped earlier. 

The Lady of Winterfell came in, two guard in tow. The woman’s blue eyes fell on her as if she was trying to pierce her soul and undercover all her secrets. The frightened girl recoiled under the glare.

“Where is my letter? What have you done with it?” Lady Stark asked straight away, her icy gaze still fixing Kira. 

“What letter?” the girl muttered weakly. 

“Don’t play the idiot, Kira. You know very well of what I am talking about; the letter you have stolen!” the lady replied with impatience.

“I’ve not stolen your letter! I’ve done nothing wrong!” The young maid found the strength to retort, feeling her dread grow with every passing moment. Lady Stark knew; she must have guessed for whom Kira was working.

“This letter is no longer where I have put it. What have you done with it?” the lady interrogated angrily.

Kira did not answer, only curl herself into a ball in an attempt to retain more warmth while being careful not to jolt her arm too much. The gesture was futile and only emphasized her own helplessness and guilt. Varys had warned her that if she was caught, he would not be able to help her.

Lady Stark came closer; Kira lowered her head, refusing to meet her hard gaze. 

“I know you are one of Varys’ little spy, Kira, don’t deny it. You have been rummaging through my belongings. There were a few letters locked in a drawer and now, one of them is missing. So, I am asking you for the last time, where is it?” the lady said threateningly. 

It did not matter. Kira kept her mouth shut. 

“Do you realize what you have done? How serious this is?” Lady Stark warned her. “At this point, the best you can do is to tell me the truth. Give me the letter back and I will ask Maester Wolkan to have a look at your arm. He could even give you something for the pain.” 

The woman threw a glance at the girl’s dislocated arm while waiting for a reply, but Kira knew she should not answer. Despite her miserable state, she had enough self-preservation to understand that her best defense was to deny everything Lady Stark would accuse her of.

The oppressive silence lasted for a long time. Kira could hear a trickle of water dripping nearby, maybe in one of the other unoccupied cells. _Tip, tip, tip,_ the droplets made as they fell on the floor, one after another. The girl tried to focus on the sound to ignore the unforgiving lady standing in front of her. After what felt like hours in Kira’s opinion, Lady Stark finally gave up.

“As you wish,” she said ominously, turning toward the guards.

“No food and no water,” she told them, making sure that Kira would hear her. “Not until she is more reasonable. Do not let anyone come here except me. No one must speak with her, particularly not Jaime Lannister. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, M’lady,” the men both answered. 

The lady left and the guards took back the torches. The darkness returned. Kira shivered, but it was not only because of the pain and the cold.

 

❈

 

“Lady Stark!” 

Sansa turned in the direction of the voice.

It was Maester Wolkan, coming toward her with an anxious expression on his face.

“My Lady, may I have a word with you, please? In private if possible?” the man asked, throwing a glance around them. 

They were standing in the middle of Winterfell courtyard. Even though the weather did not encourage anyone to linger outside for long, being careful never hurt. Sansa remembered how quickly Jaime Lannister had materialized out of thin air when she had had the girl arrested.

“Yes, Maester. We can speak in my solar,” Sansa gestured for him to follow her back inside the castle. Her visit to the glass garden would wait. 

“Leave us,” she ordered the servants once they arrived at their destination. The women gathered their remaining tools with haste and left the solar, the last one shutting the door behind her. Maester Wolkan verified that the door was well closed before approaching her. 

Sansa had seated herself behind her desk and indicated a chair for the maester in front of it. She noticed how nervous the man was; he kept playing with the hem of one of his sleeves.

“I did as you told me, My Lady,” he began once he was seated. ”I checked the rookery thoroughly and you were right. Someone visited it while I was away. A raven for Kings landing is missing; I fear someone used it to send a message to the capital.”

“Are you sure of this, Maester?” Sansa sat up straighter, her full attention on the man.

“Yes, My Lady. I had five ravens locked in a cage before I went to see Small Paul. The man has fallen on a patch of ice and broken his leg. You know him, how clumsy he can be...” Sansa made an impatient gesture and the maester faltered. “Anyway, I know there were five ravens destined for Kings Landing when I left the rookery. Now, only four remained. Also, the cage was not as well locked as it should have been. You know how important my work is for me, My Lady. I would never have forgotten to lock the cage at two different points, otherwise the ravens could have escaped. These birds can be very smart when they want something...”

“Did you speak to the guards to know if they saw someone going up in the rookery while you were away?” Sansa questioned, interrupting what promised to be a long monologue on the birds cleverness.

“Of course, My Lady, I asked them. They didn’t note anything out of the ordinary.” he answered, his voice slightly unsteady. 

_You need better guards._

Arya's words rang in Sansa’s head as if she had just uttered them. Her sister was usually right with these kind of things.

“How incompetent are they if they cannot even keep a watch correctly? I cannot allow such poor guards to stay in my service. If I forget to dismiss them, remain me to do so in the future," she said with disdain before taking a deep breath. ”So, at this point, I assume we have no way to stop this raven, whatever message it is carrying?” she inquired.

“Yes, My Lady. I regret, but there is nothing we can do. The raven will fly straight to Kings Landing as it was trained to do. It might already have reached the city as we speak.”

“So, our enemies the Lannisters have or will receive this raven at any time now. Is that correct?” she asked.

“Yes, My Lady, except if the raven is lost, but I wouldn’t count on it,” the maester added unhelpfully. 

He cleared his throat and swallowed uneasily. 

“My Lady, you know how loyal I am to you and your brother, how glad I am to be serving House Stark” – glad not to be serving the Boltons anymore was left unsaid but Sansa heard it nonetheless – “My only wish is to council you at the best of my abilities, but I have to understand well the situation for this. May I ask what was the topic of the message Kira has stolen? It must have been important...” 

And here it was. Sansa had expected the question and answered him without hesitation, her voice never wavering.

“I have been writing my own personal thoughts on our present situation, in which I detailed a few strategies we could use to better withstand this winter.” 

Had she been alone, Sansa would have stood up to pace in her solar. The man’s presence forced her to appear calmer than how she was feeling. She clasped her hands in front of her under the maester’s scrutiny and affected a neutral expression. 

“Anyway, it was _not meant_ for anyone else eyes, and particularly _not Lannister’s_ , “ she added with emphasis. “I kept it under good locks and thought it would be enough. I had the key on my person at all time. I don’t know how Kira managed to open the drawer. She must have had help from somebody else.” 

“Are you sure that this girl is the one who visited the rookery? And in this case, how do you know that the message she stole is the one she sent to Kings Landing? We have no real proof,” the maester pointed out.

“True, we have no real proof, but I don’t think it is a coincidence that a raven is missing shortly after Kira has stolen one of my letter.” Sansa sighed. “It is imperative the girl confesses her crimes, and soon.”

“My Lady, if you are right, if this girl is one Varys’ spy acting on his orders...” His voice faltered.

“Go on, Maester Wolkan. You can speak freely in my presence. Remember that I am no Bolton but a Stark of Winterfell.” She was proud to be able to say these words. 

Still, the maester hesitated. She waited patiently for him to put his thoughts into words. 

“My Lady, if that is true… It would mean Varys is not only disloyal to you and to the queen, but that he is acting for the Lannisters’ benefit, by telling the girl to send them this message. Shouldn’t we warn Her Grace of the danger this man poses and tell her the content of this raven?” The maester asked with agitation, as if he was putting his own life in danger by saying this loudly. 

It was a possibility, but Sansa highly doubted _he_ would be the main target.

“Until the girl speaks, it would be unwise to act; too much hast and the queen could perceive our actions in the wrong way. Should anything happen, the blame would fall upon our shoulders. Actually, I believe this was Varys’ intention all along.” Sansa let a second sigh escape through her lips. “Beside, you are right; we don’t know for certain what this raven is carrying. Maybe it has nothing to do with my missing message. Maybe it will be lost in a winter storm. I know I shall pray for it,” she declared. It was all she could do now. Pray the gods for forgiveness and hope it would be enough.

"And so shall I, My Lady." The maester nodded gravely. 

“Is there any news of my sister?“ Sansa wanted to know, changing the topic abruptly.

One talk about a potential betrothal and her wild sister was gone, leaving without so much as a by-your-leave. Arya had scribbled a short farewell on a paper, stating a urgent need to bring some ‘unfinished business’ to conclusion, whatever that might be.

“I am afraid not, My Lady” the maester answered, unable to bring her any reassurance on this point as well. 

 

❈

 

For Kira, surrounded by darkness and deprived of sensation as she was, the passing of the time was marked only by the noises of the dripping water she could hear, seconds after seconds, hours after hours. 

At first, it had been a distraction, a way to stay sane despite her isolation and her bleak surroundings. But when the hunger began to cause pangs in her stomach, when the thirst turned her mouth as sticky and dry as the sand of a desert, the water drops falling nearby became a cruel reminder of how helpless she was. There was aso much water so close, but she had no hope to reach it.

Kira was beginning to understand it was as possible to die of thirst as one could die of coldness. So far, it had only been a distant idea – it was not a common way to die in the North, not as freezing to death was – but she had heard a friend tell her that another of his friends knew someone who had died of thirst. She had always thought it was more a tale than a real story, but she no longer believed this.

Right now, she would have drunk anything she could have put her hands on, even a bucket full of the dirty and soapy water the servants use to clean the ground, but she did not even had that. All she had was the sound of the falling water that was taunting her. She was beginning to loathe that noise with a deep passion.

As she got more dehydrated, a pounding headache appeared in her temples and cramps in her lower back, sharp as if someone was poking her with a needle. A few hours later, she was feeling so nauseous that she threw up what little she had left in her stomach, becoming even more dehydrated in the process. The sickly smell in the cell did not improve her state of mind. She stood up slowly with the distant hope to diminish the cramps in her back and to move away from the stench – as much as the narrow cell would allow her anyway – but her head started spinning. Once standing, she found that the dizziness was too great to stay on her feet. Kira slumped back on the ground in defeat. 

On top of everything, her left arm worried her. Whereas it had been hurting her constantly before, she could no longer feel anything coming from it. No pain, no sensation, nothing. Kira would have not thought it was possible to miss the stinging pain, but she did. This nothingness was more worrying; it was as if her arm was dead. She tried to pinch her left hand strongly, hoping to elicit a reaction, but nothing happened.

The girl's desperation was reaching a new level when she heard a new sound. She stopped to breath to concentrate, unsure whether she was hallucinating it or not. It was faint, but real. The unmistakable sound of footsteps, growing louder. Someone was coming. At this moment, she would have been glad to see anyone, even the Lady of Winterfell herself.

The cracking of the door resounded ominously. Kira was waiting with bated breath to catch a glimpse of the person who was coming. Suddenly, the light of a torch blinded her. She blinked, recoiling under the onslaught. After a short while, she was able to distinguish two figures standing in front of her.

 

❈

 

Maester Wolkan's initial impression as he laid his eyes on the girl was that she was not in a good shape. His gaze lingered on her parched skin and hollow eyes, wincing as he reached her dislocated shoulder.

“Are you going to talk to us today, Kira?" Lady Stark asked the girl. "As you can see, I have brought Maester Wolkan with me. You know him; he can heal any injury. If you cooperate, he can put your arm to rights. I have also brought some water. I think this might interest you.”

The lady produced a glass and a small jug full of water. She held the two items in front of the girl’s eyes, who widened and followed her movement with a rapt attention.

Lady Stark filled the glass and gave it to the girl, who drained it in an heartbeat. 

“Better?” the lady asked.

“Yes,” the girl said, opening her mouth for the first time and licking her dry lips with her tongue. “Thank you, M’lady,” she added at last, hoping maybe that her good manner could help her case.

“Maester, could you kindly check Kira’s arm?” the lady said politely, though it was not really a question.

Maester Wolkan nodded. He knelt in front of the girl and exchanged a few words with her, which confirmed what he had feared. If she had no feeling left in her arm and could not move it at all, there were some serious damage done to the axillary nerve. With time and good care, this might have healed with little consequences, but the girl would not have this luxury.

The man rose and turned toward the lady, a silent question on his lips. They shared a look; she shook her head slowly. They both turned back toward the slumped girl. 

“Tell me, Kira, do you work for Varys?” Lady Stark asked her quite bluntly. ”Believe me, there is no need to lie to protect this man. He does not care the slightest bit for his little birds. I am afraid that he saw you and your other little friends as tools he can use, then discard once you have outlived your usefulness.”

“I know,” Kira mumbled. 

“Does that means 'yes', Kira? Do you really work for that man?”

“Yes,” the girl said at last through gritted teeth.

Lady Stark' rigid stance loosened a bit. She nodded in the maester's direction and the man knelt a second time in front of the girl.

“Your shoulder is dislocated, my dear, which mean one of your bones is not at its right place," the maester said while trying to mime with his hands how the head of the humerus normally sit in the scapula and how they were in her case. "If you agree, I can put it back where it should be."

“It will hurt? My arm will work again after that?" the girl asked anxiously. 

“It might hurt for a short while, but it is not certain. I hope you will be able to use your arm again in the future, but whatever happen, you should not use it until I tell you otherwise.” 

For a few seconds, the girl did not move, then nodded in agreement. 

“Very well. I need you to move a bit,” the maester instructed, helping her getting ready. “Now, don’t move at all. Tell me, my dear, what is your favorite color?”

Without really waiting for the girl’s answer, Maester Wolkan pushed her left arm with all his strength in the right direction. 

He felt the bone budge and come back at its normal place. It was over before Kira could start screaming.

“Good,” Master Wolkan said, moving gently the arm in all directions without any difficulty. “It went well. Don’t use your arm from now on, not until I tell you that you can.”

The man rose again.

“I still can’t feel it,” the girl complained.

“This is due to the nerve damage. I cannot help with this problem, my dear. Only time and rest can,” he informed her.

“Thank you, maester,” Lady Stark cut in. She looked at the girl. “Kira, did Varys asked that you send my letter to Kings Landing?” she inquired.

“Of course not! He told me nothing. I never touched your letter, I swear it!”

“Kira, so far, we have been very patient with you considering your situation. If you don’t want this to change, you must repay us for our kindness. Maester Wolkan didn't have to put back your shoulder in place. I didn't have to give you a glass of water. Now, if you want a second one, answer my questions without lying. So, was it my letter that you sent to Kings Landing?” Lady Stark interrogated while filling another glass with water.

“No, you know I didn’t do it!" Kira squealed, managing to sound both desperate and defiant at the same time. "You know it, seeing _you’re the one_ who send it to Kings Landing!” 

The maester winced. This was not the right thing to say; some truths were better left unsaid. He risked a glance at Lady Stark. She had paled a little, her eyes narrowing in anger.

“How dare you?" she said ominously. "Fine. If lies are the only things that can leave your mouth, I'll come back later when your are more reasonable.” Lady Stark poured the content of the glass on the ground.

“Please, M’lady!” the girl begged, a horrified look on her face. “I’m telling the truth! Give me more water, please!”

The lady turned toward the maester. 

“She’s not going to die today, is she, Maester Wolkan?”

“No, My Lady,” he confirmed, resigned. “I believe she can survive another day without water.” 

The maester had sworn to heal people, not help torturing them. However, he did not dare to raise any objection when the lady put the pitcher still half-full in front of Kira’s cell, just out of reach and made a resolute sign in his direction.

The man threw one last pitying glance at the prostrated girl before they both left. A guard came back to lock the door behind them. 

 

❈

 

This time, the burning torches stayed in place so Kira could see the pitcher. A promise of more water, of an end to her suffering if she so chose. 

Kira crawled closer the the bars of the cell. 

She held out her good arm in the hope she could actually reach the pitcher, but of course she couldn’t. It had been put at this precise distance for a reason. 

However, despite her upbringing (or perhaps because of it), Kira was smarter than most girls of her age. An idea was taking root in her mind. She took off one of her shoes and tried to reach the pitcher with it. This time, she succeed. With utmost care, Kira began to pull the pitcher toward her, describing a large circle. At first, her tactic worked. She had an instant of wild hope during which she actually believed she would get the water and outsmart Sansa Stark, but her luck did not last. One movement a bit too rough and the pitcher was toppling over a pebble, spilling on the ground its precious content. Kira swore. She managed to put her fingers in the little puddle that had formed around it and lapped a few drops on her fingers before the water disappeared, sucked by the ground.

Somewhere, in one of the other cells, she could still hear the sound of the water slowly dripping, mocking her failure. 

She start to scream, screaming her rage and her hopelessness. If she had been well enough, she would have stood and pounded desperately against the bars at the same time, but she could not rise. Her voice turned hoarse, her parched throat was burning, but still she continued. She screamed until she had no voice left and could no longer utter a sound. A resigned silence fell then on the cells.

No one had heard her cries or no one had cared. It would have made no difference anyway.

 

 

❈

 

Seven hours later, the girl was found dead in her cell, her big brown eyes wide open and unblinking.

When Maester Wolkan was called to examine the body, he found it already rigid and growing cold. 

At his first examination, he was not able to explain why the Stranger at taken the poor girl so soon – she had not been deprived of food or water long enough to die. Thus, the man dedicated a large amount of his time to search for the cause of her passing the following days. But in spite of his commitment, he still had no explanation to give.

“I have found no trace of poison in the girl’s body,” he reported later to Lady Stark. “She had no heart defect or other lethal malformations. The body humors were clear, with no sign of infection as far as I can tell. There is no trace of strangulation. Her left shoulder is swollen, but nothing that could be life threatening. The few bruises on her skin probably comes from her arrest, but it was not the cause of the death either.” The maester took a deep breath. “In truth, it looked as if the girl’s heart has stopped to beat without reason. At the present time, only two facts are certain: the cause of the death is not natural and it has been very sudden.”

The maester cleared his throat nervously, awaiting the lady’s judgement.

“Five days of research and this is all you can tell me?” Lady Stark asked in a condescending tone. ”No one dies without a reason.”

“But… but my Lady…” the maester began, a mortified look appearing on his face. “Sometimes the cause of the death cannot be found, no matter how much one investigates. Take for example the Viper’s Kiss, the most potent poison found in Essos. It causes a fatal heart failure when ingested even in an infinitesimal dose. Yet, it leaves no trace in the body,” Maester Wolkan explained, finding back his confidence the more he talked. “How can I find trace of the poisoning if the girl was killed with this poison, which is specially designed not to leave any?” 

“You believe the girl’s death could be due to poison? A poison like the one you just mentioned ?” she asked.

“Yes, My Lady. Given how the girl’s heart has stopped, I believe the Viper’s Kiss is the best candidate to explain her sudden passing, though it is very expensive here, in Westeros. This poison is derived from a few extremely toxic compounds produced by certain species of frogs found near the free city of Pentos.”

“Do you know of other poisons that work like this one?”

“I do not, My Lady, and my knowledge in this field is quite exhaustive, if I might say. It is also the reason why this poison is so expensive.”

“A poison from Essos. This reeks of Varys and of his schemes,” Sansa declared after a pause. “Kira must have known things the Spider didn’t want me to learn.” 

Seeing the incomprehension on the maester’s face, she explained. “Varys must have planted more than one little bird in our midst. They killed the girl so she wouldn’t talk. She could have revealed how much of a traitor he is.”

“And Kira could have exonerated you, My Lady,” the maester added, catching up quickly. “Now, only Varys could do that but I doubt it would serve his interests.”

The lady rose in a clear sign of dismissal.

“Thank you, Maester Wolkan,” she told the man before he could take his leave. “I must act carefully now. Very carefully; the fate of all the North hangs in the balance. I need more time to think of an appropriate course of action. Can I count on your discretion until then?” she asked him.

“Of course, My Lady. I am here for that.” He said, bowing deeply before he left the solar.

 

❈

 

Suddenly, Sansa’s new handmaiden did not appear as meek or innocuous as she looked. Sansa surprised herself at monitoring closely the girl’s every move the following day, expecting a betrayal that never came. Or looking twice at the stable boy who had come with the queen and stayed afterward. He was always avoiding her gaze. Maybe he was another spy that Varys had planted among her people. Maybe it was just her imagination going wild, but suddenly, she saw betrayals everywhere, in any of her people's actions, the looks they exchanged when they saw her or the whispers following her path. She began to distrust everyone, particularly the newcomers.

Unfortunately, Sansa had a vast list of potential suspects. Seeing how many people had died during the Others’ last assault, there were a lot of new faces coming and going in the castle.

After a few exhausting days spent in this uncomfortable state, Sansa realized she was reacting exactly how Varys had expected, walking right into his trap. Trying to undercover Varys’ little birds was not how she would solve her problems. 

_How unfortunate would it be if Varys himself were to fall from a cliff while on Dragonstone?_ Sansa mused. _If I can’t find his little spies, maybe it's time to remove_ him _from the game._

A part of her mind was already trying to select which of her men she could trust with such a sensible task.

A fall. Accidents occurred all the time. It was easy and quick. With luck, the body would never be recovered and her problems instantaneously solved. That was the kind of plan Cersei would have approved; it lack any subtlety. 

But if by misfortune anything went wrong, if a Northman was caught while pushing Varys, the consequences would be more than disastrous. 

_Is there a better way to get rid of the man?_ Sansa was wondering. _A way that would not arise suspicion?_

 

❈

 

Sansa finally went to visit the glass garden a week later at the gardener’s insistence, but her mind was not focused on the subject at hand.

She didn’t hear much of what the man was telling her and remembered even less afterwards. At any other time, it would have interested her greatly to hear him talk about his associations of crops and the higher yield he got thanks to this new method he was experimenting. Any way to improve the production in the glass garden in winter was a good thing as it would limit the number of men dying of scurvy caused by a lack of fresh food. However, she had greater problems at this moment than voles eating carrots or parsnips.

_When Daenerys Targaryen comes back with her dragons, food will be everyone’s last worry,_ she thought tiredly.

Sansa had waited, scrutinizing the sky relentlessly, dreading the inevitable return of the dragons or a raven bearing the queen's wrath or her intention to burn them all in her fury. 

Days had gone by, then the entire week had passed and still no words had come from the South.

Sansa had not been eating or sleeping well these past days. Her restless sleep had been disturbed by nightmares she couldn’t remember at dawn, but left her drained of all strength and energy. She had visited the Godswood more often than usual and prayed when alone. Bran had not disturbed her prayers, maybe feeling her need for solitude. She had prayed for Arya’s safe return, for Bran’s health, for strength for her and for the men and women of the North. She had prayed for Jon too, but then her prayers had been very different. Mostly, she had prayed for forgiveness.

The trees had been looking at her with their grimacing faces, the sap falling at her feet as she was kneeling in the snow and the dirt, asking the gods to pardon her sins. She did not know if her imagination had been playing tricks on her, but she had thought that the trees themselves were looking back at her in disapproval.

A day later, as the sun was setting, a single raven arrived with a letter sealed by a white wolf.

It was from Jon, telling her of his dragon’s death.

 

❈

 

“I don’t doubt your devotion, Brienne," Sansa said, looking at Brienne’s crushed expression, "but from now on, I will no longer be able trust your judgment, particularly not when Jaime Lannister is concerned. I suppose that if a man can fall for a pretty face and do stupid things as a result, so can a woman.”

“I am really sorry, My Lady. I will never disappointed you again, I swear it, by the old gods and the new,” Brienne promised her fervently. “If there is anything I can do, anything at all, please, tell me and I would do it, no matter the cost.” 

The tall woman was towering in front of her desk and yet, she looked as if she was shrinking with each word leaving Sansa’s mouth. Harsh words for a hard truth, but they were unfortunately necessary.

“I will think about it, Brienne,” Sansa replied, exhausted. ”Though I can hardly resent you until the end of my days. It is not as if you are the first people I trusted who let love blind him. Sadly, this is in human's nature.” Another sigh escaped her lips. “But if I must say, Brienne, Jaime Lannister is not the worst looking man you could have chosen. Certainly not the most reliable, but still not unpleasant to look at,” Sansa added in the hope to alleviate the tense atmosphere. She knew she could still count on Brienne’s loyalty for what mattered the most and that resenting her too much would not help anyone in the long term. 

The woman warrior turned to an intense shade of red.

“Who is he? This other person whom you used to trust? Is it... your brother?” Brienne wanted to know to hide her embarrassment.

“Of course. Who but Jon would be able to give up a kingdom for the love of a woman?” she raised her hands in exasperation and huffed. “Robb too, did something like this, but it’s not a kingdom he lost, it’s his head. I don’t want the same thing happening to Jon, Brienne. Maybe this will be your punishment; make sure that my brother stay alive. It will be quite a challenge, I think.”

At this moment, the sound of a hunting horn was heard in the distance. She dismissed the woman shortly afterwards. Brienne apologized one last time before she took her leave. 

Soon, the men Sansa had sent out to bring back Jaime Lannister were filling in the courtyard. They were empty handed as she had expected. It had snowed too much during the night. Any track or scent the Lannister had left must have been covered by a thick layer of fresh snow, making it impossible for anyone to follow him. 

The man was definitely gone and would never come back. Was it really so bad?

 

 

❈

 

Master Wolkan was not brave. This he knew very well. He had not done much to oppose the Boltons’ terrifying rule. Ramsay Snow had told him to spread lies about his father’s murder and Wolkan had done so, unwillingly maybe, but he had still taken his quill, written all the lies the bastard told him to write and send the letters to all the Northern Houses. When Ramsay had fed his good mother and newborn brother to his bitches, all Wolkan had done was to protest weakly. The man feared that his need for justice would always be overshadowed by his own sense of self-preservation. Seeing it would have been justice for the Boltons, his conscience had not kept him awake too much at night. 

No, Master Wolkan was clearly not a hero from the songs. He wanted to do his work well, but would never do it at his own expense.

He had thought that the Starks would be different, that they would be more honorable than the flaying men. Surprisingly, among Lord Eddard’s children, it was the natural born son that had proven to be the most honorable.

Maester Wolkan knew beforehand how much _Snow bastards_ could be cruel and treacherous by nature, but Jon Snow was indisputably his father’s son. As honorable as Lord Eddard Stark had been, and in any case much more so than his trueborn sisters. 

Master Wolkan had had in his possession a copy of the letter Sansa Stark had sent to her brother Robb Stark. In it, she was asking the Young Wolf to bend the knee to the Lannisters despite their father’s unjust murder. A letter written under duress, no doubts, but the Maester believed that Jon Snow would not have written it had the siblings’ situations been reversed. On the lady’s order, Peter Baelish had taken the copy to destroy it. Then, while Jon Snow was away and with the help of her other siblings, she had sentenced Baelish to death under the charge of treason and murder.

The maester might not be the bravest of men, but he was no fool either. He had eyes, good eyes that allowed him to see things he was not supposed to see and enough intelligence to understand the implications behind. _Timid, but with a sharp mind_ was how Archmaester Erbrose had always described his student. 

Varys’ little bird, the girl named Kira, was a good scapegoat. She had been allowed to live long enough to confess working for Varys, but when she had begun to say things she shouldn’t have, she had suddenly been found dead in her cell. The Viper's Kiss was a good candidate to explain her death as he had told the Lady Stark, but he had not mentioned at the time that a pillow would have done the job as easily. It would not have left any trace as well but would have cost nothing. A good way to get rid of an embarrassing witness who was not behaving as expected.

It was no longer only suspicions Maester Wolkan had. There were the guards testimonies to consider as well. He had not lied when he had said they saw _nothing out of the ordinary_ , though it was not the same thing as _no one_. 

The girl’s sudden outburst could have been mistaken for an attempt at brazenness, a way to deny her own guilt and return the fault on her interrogator – as Lady Stark had wanted him to believe – but it could also have been the girl’s last desperate attempt to tell the truth. 

However, as the maester did not want to end up like Baelish or the girl – dead and forgotten in a stinking mass grave – he was keeping his mouth shut and a low profile. 

 

The man closed his eyes tiredly while massaging his temples, trying to loose some of the tension that had accumulated during the last days. However, as he was doing so, the conversation he had had with the guards that have been watching the entrance of the maester’s turret in his absence kept repeating in his mind in an endless loop. 

He could heard himself asking again the two guards if they had seen someone going in the rookery while he was away because he feared that a thief had slipped inside.

“Someone came, Maester. But she wasn’t your thief,” the smaller guard had answered him with a knowing smile.

“Wait! Someone came? How can you be sure it was not my thief?” Maester Wolkan had questioned anxiously. “Was it a young maid with a pretty face and brow eyes?”

“Yep, definitively pretty,” the guard had replied, “but I’m afraid she’s no longer a maid. Got the eyes color wrong too. T’was not brown, but blue. Very pretty eyes, that’s for sure. Don’t yeh think, Rolph?” He had elbowed the taller man.

“Nay,” Rolph had answered, shaking his head. “Too cold for my taste. Eyes as cold as the winds of Winter.”

“He’s not wrong, the Rolph. She’s quite a temper, our lady. I wouldn’t want to cross her," the first guard had agreed. "Would you, maester?” he had asked then with an unpleasant sneer that Maester Wolkan believed had been directed at him

The maester still cursed himself for his cowardice because he had shook his head and left with haste under the guard's laughter, not daring to ask anything else.

Now, he could only take consolation in the knowledge that Lady Stark had fired these two mocking birds. Soon, they would end up like Peter Baelish, except that their corpses would not been found before the next Spring. Maester Wolkan was sure that Lady Stark had already sent someone to slid their throats in their sleep.

But then, Maester Wolkan feared that after them, _he_ was the next unwanted witness on the lady's list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice atmosphere in Winterfell, don't you think?
> 
> At first, I didn't know how to write Sansa's POV, but the more I wrote this chapter, the more I enjoyed it. So instead of a few snippets in Dany's chapter, this turned into a whole chapter, which is probably less confusing (or perhaps not?). I hope Sansa was in character because after seeing the last season, it was not easy to write her. How much do you love this version?
> 
> Next chapter, we return on Dragonstone to see Dany's reaction. It's really not a good time to be one of Varys' little birds.


End file.
